mNWARING  V: 

PimmCE  -HEWLETT 


MAINWARING 


BY 

MAURICE  HEWLETT 

Author  of  "The  Forest  Lovers," 
"Love  and  Lucy,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

1920 


COPYKIGHT,  1920, 

By  DODD,  mead  and  company,  Inc. 


VAIt-.BALUOU    COMPANY 
BINCHAMTON  AND  NEW  VgRK 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    Squab  Mainwarikg 1 

II  Report  from  Trafalgar  Square  ....     17 

III  Balm  of  Heroes 23 

IV  The  Strike  at  Culgaith 41 

V  The  Petition  and  the  Return     ....     64 

VI    In  and  Out  of  the  House 79 

VII     The  Free  Lancer 91 

VIII    Montagu  Square 104 

IX    After  Dinner 118 

X    Lady  Whitehaven  in  Woe 129 

XI    Lizzy  in  Print 143 

XII    Under  the  Blossom 154 

XIII  Mainwaring  and  Sir  John 166 

XIV  Lizzy  Bids  Me  Go 178 

XV  Reflections  of  a  Banished  Lover    .     .     .  186 

XVI    Mainwaring  in  the  Box 195 

XVII    The  Surprise  Party 209 

XVIII    Cups 228 

XIX     Climax 240 

XX    Cry  prom  Cavendish  Square 246 

XXI     Sick-Bed 259 

XXII    Head  Down 269 

XXIII  The  Spring 278 

XXIV  Haven 291 


43G0o2 


MAINWARING 


MAINWARING 


SQUAB   MAINWAEING 

THERE ^S  nothing  for  it  but  to  begin  at  the 
beginning.  I  don't  mean  of  Main  waring 
himself,  for  nobody  knows  his  beginning  now 
that  he  himself  can't  tell  it — I  mean  rather  the 
beginning  of  myself  and  himself — which  was  at 
Marseilles  in  the  'seventies.  The  history  of  a 
man — I  know  that  very  well — can't  be  rounded 
up  into  a  tale  in  the  artist's  sense.  Nature 
won 't  have  anything  to  say  to  your  antithetical 
light  and  shade,  your  balance  and  chiaroscuro 
and  climax.  Form,  which  all  the  poets  talk  of 
and  none  of  them  understand,  is  no  concern  of 
Nature's,  occupied  with  her  enormous  affair 
of  production,  absorption  and  reproduction. 
Things  happen  in  life  because  other  things  have 
already  happened.  You  souse  into  a  puddle 
because  you  have  tripped  over  a  stone;  you 

tripped  over  a  stone  because  you  were  looking 

1 


2  MAINWAEING 

at  Thompson's  wife.  All  is  predetermined,  but 
fortuitously,  by  the  Fairies  of  gestation  and 
birth.  So  Mainwaring  burned  his  way  through 
the  England  and  London  of  the  last  generation 
because  a  Doctor  Benjamin  and  Maria  his  wife 
were  what  they  were,  and  did  what  they  did — 
I  never  knew  them,  nor  can  guess  at  their  com- 
merce— in  far-off  Ballymena,  or  because  re- 
moter Mainwarings  and  their  obscurer  Marias, 
or  perhaps  Bridgets,  burned  and  fused  in  their 
loves.  Heredity!  Doom!  Is  that  all?  Is  it 
so  simple!  And  yet  Mainwaring — my  Main- 
waring,  England's  (since  she  adopted  him) 
Eichard  Denzil  Blaise  Mainwaring — was  a 
genius,  and  could  drive  men  like  sheep  down 
steep  places  into  the  sea,  whereas  Dr.  Benjamin 
his  father  drove  nothing  but  a  gig,  and  drove 
that  so  badly  when  drunk  one  foggy  day  that 
he  drove  it  into  a  stone  wall,  overturned  it  and 
broke  his  neck.  Yet  mark:  it  was  because  of 
that  untimely  indiscretion  of  his  that  Main- 
waring himself  went  to  Marseilles,  saw  me 
there,  and  involved  me  in  his  dangerously  heady 
fortunes.  It  was  because  of  that — but  no  more 
philosophy.  I  could  go  on  for  ever — and  it  is  a 
sign  of  age. 
He  had  perhaps  been  there  a  year  when  I 


SQUAB  MAINWARINa  3 

first  went  there,  meaning  to  spend  a  few  days  in 
a  January  sun  as  fierce  as  ours  of  June,  and  in 
leisurely,  happy  contemplation  of  all  the  jolly 
things  I  might  do  next.  My  old  uncle  Mom- 
pesson,  the  Dean  of  St.  Neot's,  had  died  and  left 
me  five  hundred  a  year,  very  unexpectedly. 
It  chimed  in  so  happily  with  my  marked  dis- 
taste for  any  kind  of  regular  work  that  together 
they  rang  down  the  curtain  on  my  acts  in  the 
Temple.  I  had  headed  due  south  like  a  be- 
lated swallow,  only  stopping  at  Marseilles  be- 
cause there  were  so  many  roads  out  of  it.  The 
Messageries  Maritimes  would  take  me  to 
Madeira,  to  Morocco,  to  Algiers,  to  Genoa, 
Naples,  Messina,  Smyrna,  Constantinople,  and 
I  was  ready  for  all  of  them.  Meantime  I  loved 
the  smell  of  oranges,  the  dust  and  glare,  the 
shipping  and  Arabs  of  the  Cannebiere,  so  there 
I  stayed,  smoking  and  drinking  coffee  and  read- 
ing the  novels  of  Alphonse  Daudet,  through  a 
more  splendid  January  month  than  I  had  ever 
dreamed  of. 

It  was  on  the  Cannebiere  that  Mainwaring 
stalked  into  my  notice.  I  saw  him  at  once,  he 
riveted  my  eyes ;  I  saw  him  again  at  the  same 
hour  of  the  next  morning;  after  that  I  looked 
for  him  and  scarcely  ever  missed  him.    A  tall, 


4  MAINWAEINa 

very  black-and-white,  gaunt,  starved  and  dis- 
traught young  man,   outrageously   thin,   with 
cheek-bones  like  knives  and  elbows  like  hedge- 
stakes,  in  a  thin  broadcloth  frock,  closely  but- 
toned, withered  black  trousers,  and  a  hat,  and 
a  pair  of  boots  which,  I  give  my  word,  were  for 
tears.     Nobody  but  a  Frenchman — you  will  say, 
a  stage  Frenchman — could  have  worn  them  as 
he  did,  with  a  flourish,  and  a  kind  of  bitter 
gaiety;  but  I  confess  that  I  admired  the  gal- 
lantry, done,  as  it  must  have  been,  on  a  gnaw- 
ing stomach  and  through  aching  eyeballs.    If 
it  was  cold — and  it  can  be  bitter-cold  in  Mar- 
seilles— he  wore  a  double-breasted  brown  over- 
coat, far  too  thin— which  had  the  odd  effect  of 
making  him  look  less  clad,  and  more  blackly 
clad  than  ever.    I  don't  pretend  to  explain  that 
—but  I  state  it.    Atop  of  all  that  I  should  like 
to  add  that  I  never  believed  him  a  Frenchman. 
I  could  hardly  tell  you  why,  except  it  may  have 
been  that  in  his  rare  detached  moments  I  seemed 
to  see  that  quite  unwarranted  air  of  being  a 
lord  of  the  earth,  free  to  range  above  it,  on  it 
and  below  it,  which  is  the  badge  of  my  own 
nation.    But  his  detached  moments  w^ere  few. 
He  was  nearly  always  absorbed  in  his  thought. 


SQUAB  MAINWARING  5 

his  head  either  sunk  to  his  hreast  or  uplifted, 
convening  with  the  blue  sky ;  but  when,  as  often 
happened,  he  tilted  into  another  wayfarer — to 
see  his  bow,  to  see  the  flourish  of  his  deplorable 
hat  was  to  be  transported  to  the  great  days  of 
France,  when  the  Comte  de  Guiche  paid  his 
court  to  Madame  de  Brissac,  or  Monsieur  made 
way  for  her  adorable  friend  and  critic.  That 
was  French  enough — and  yet,  he  could  not  be  a 
Frenchman.  He  was  not  handsome ;  he  stooped 
his  head,  he  was  of  an  unwholesome  pallor,  his 
jaw  was  slightly  twisted — but  there  was  an  air 
of  nobility  about  him,  and  a  wrung  and  rather 
terrible  seriousness,  all  the  more  arresting  be- 
cause, as  I  believe,  it  was  due  to  hunger.  He 
wore  a  thin  black  beard,  a  French  student's 
beard,  which  fluttered  in  the  least  breeze.  Un- 
der that  it  was  easy  to  see  that  his  mouth  was 
well-shaped,  though  he  had  a  trick  of  pressing 
the  lips  hard  over  the  teeth  which  was  ugly. 
His  chin  jutted  forward  like  the  cutwater  of  a 
destroyer.  His  eyes,  as  I  found  when  I  came 
to  be  intimate  with  him,  were  remarkable — of 
a  deep  and  steady  gray  which  had  the  power  of 
dilation  and  the  quality  of  fire  to  a  very  high 
degree.    It  was  impossible  not  to  believe  him 


6  MAINWAEING 

when  those  stem  eyes,  absorbing  yon,  enforced 
the  tale.  They  were  his  greatest  asset  in  this 
world  of  gullible  men  and  too  kind  women. 

Generally  he  stalked  alone,  but  rarely  a 
friend,  a  French  gentleman  of  dapper  appear- 
ance and  comfortable  rotundity,  was  with  him. 
On  such  occasions  Mainwaring  talked  vehe- 
mently, in  fierce  and  urgent  whispers,  enforc- 
ing his  impetuous,  stabbing  eloquence  with 
slaps  of  the  palm;  or  standing  still  in  mid- 
pavement,  his  friend  firmly  gripped  by  the  lapel, 
he  would  raise  his  bony  free  hand  higher  and 
higher  towards  Heaven,  his  whole  person  strain- 
ing up  after  it,  as  if  the  scarecrow  he  was  were 
on  the  point  of  flight  upon  the  wings  of  his 
words.  His  friend,  too  polite  to  reveal  the  em- 
barrassment he  was  suffering,  but  anxious  to 
end  it,  used  to  agree  with  him  quickly.  ^^En 
effet/^  I  have  heard  him  say  more  than  once  or 
twice,  and  at  frequent  intervals,  ^Hout  est  dit  " 
— which  it  never  was — but  ^^On  nous  ecoute^' 
underlay  whatever  he  may  have  said — and  that 
was  true,  and  no  wonder  at  all.  I  was  never 
fortunate  enough  to  be  one  of  his  overhearers, 
but  was  sufficiently  filled  with  his  fiery  flow  to 
be  indifferent  to  its  purport.  It  poured  forth 
of  him  like  a  lava-stream,  and  was  punctuated, 


SQUAB  MAINWARING  7 

as  that  is,  by  the  frequent  fling-up  of  some  great 
rock  of  oratory,  some  bursting  proof,  some 
pounding,  shattering  conclusion.  I  supposed 
it  must  be  politics.  Nothing  stirs  an  English- 
man to  the  very  deeps — in  those  days  I  assumed 
his  Englishry.  I  was  right  about  his  matter, 
anyhow.  Politics  it  was.  He  had  an  infallible 
means  of  saving  the  world  for  ever  on  the  tip  of 
his  tongue,  and  spilling  over. 

My  interest  grew  fast  and  carried  me  to 
lengths.  It  came  to  this,  that  I  lay  in  wait  for 
him,  like  a  beast  of  chase,  to  catch  him  at  a  meal. 
Noon  was  the  consecrated  hour  in  Marseilles, 
but  the  feeding-grounds  were  innumerable,  and 
it  took  time.  I  quested  far  and  wide — begin- 
ning the  cremeries  and  enlarging  into  more 
vinous  and  less  savoury  dens.  He  was  a  shy 
bird — there  was  no  finding  him.  And  then  one 
afternoon  I  almost  fell  over  his  shocking  boots, 
at  the  hour  of  absinthe.  There  he  was,  his 
opalescent  bane  beside  him,  with  folded  arms 
and  a  frown  upon  him,  stretched  in  the  declining 
sun  of  the  Cannebiere.  With  a  murmur  and 
touch  of  the  hat,  which  he  just  acknowledged, 
I  sat  at  his  table  and  ordered  my  poison.  I 
had  the  Petit  Marseillais  in  my  hand,  and  pres- 


8  MAINWAEINQ 

ently  showed  him  a  paragraph  of  home  news, 
taking  my  courage  in  both  hands. 

**  This  is  how  they  feed  us  exiles,  sir,''  I  said. 
He  withdrew  himself  from  his  vision  and 
knitted  his  brows  over  the  paragraph.  It  had 
been  to  the  effect  that  ^'Sir  Bentivoglio,  pre- 
mier ministre  d'Angleterre^^ — this  was  their 
shot  at  our  Right  Hon.  Isaac  Bentivoglio,  exotic 
leader  to  the  Tory  party  at  that  time — that  Sir 
Bentivoglio  had  received  a  deputation  of  ^'mer- 
chants of  the  highest  consideration  in  London'' 
and  promised  them,  with  a  good  deal  of  high- 
sounding  phrases,  a  Eoyal  Commission  about 
something  or  other.  Its  brazen  emptiness  still 
adhered  to  it. 

Mainwaring  read,  and  nodded  once  or  twice 
as  he  did  so.  Then  he  returned  me  the  paper 
with  a  fine  air  of  detachment.  *'I  despise  um," 
he  said — and  I  knew  his  nation — ''as  you  de- 
spise the  rat  in  your  bread-pan."  He  let  it 
go  at  that,  but  then,  warming  to  his  own  meta- 
phor, "If  I  could  fasten  me  teeth  fairly  in  him, 
I'd  shake  him  like  the  Ghetto  rat  he  is  and 
fling  him  out  to  a  Brixton  ash-bin.  Then  let 
them  see  the  ticks  of  rhetoric  stream  off  him  to 
find  warmer  quarters." 

Once  launched,  he  held  on  to  this  vein  for 


SQUAB  MAINWARINa  9 

half-an-hour,  pursuing  it  in  all  its  ramifica- 
tions; and,  if  you'll  believe  me,  never  once  let 
go  of  his  metaphor.  Bentivoglio  was  a  Ghetto 
rat  to  the  end,  and  the  flowers  of  rhetoric  which 
he  threw  up  were  all  oriental  and  rodent.  It 
was  really  a  fine  feat,  and  enabled  me  to  under- 
stand how  literary  the  man  was.  His  speech 
was  exactly  what  Sir  Walter  Scott  calls  '^  arti- 
ficial and  combined  narrative. '^  The  end  was 
laid  in  the  beginning,  the  climax  foreseen,  the 
swift  descent  prepared  for;  but  something 
more  genuine  lay  behind,  whether  sheer  literary 
inspiration  or  strong  conviction  I  was  not  then 
able  to  say.  I  know  very  well  which  it  was, 
now. 

We  parted  on  very  good  terms,  not  without 
an  understanding  that  we  were  to  meet  again. 
Indeed,  he  asked  me  to  dinner  for  a  certain  day 
fixed,  at  a  certain  restaurant  specified.  So- 
good  a  house  was  that  that  I  may  have  betrayed 
surprise— to  him,  I  mean,  preternaturally  sharp 
as  his  poverty  had  made  him.  He  took  it  very 
easily.  ''Have  no  fear,''  he  said;  ''they  pay 
me  on  the  15th  of  the  month.  It's  a  day  you 
may  be  sure  of."  I  laughed  it  off,  naturally, 
but  found  out  afterwards  how  truly  he  had 
spoken.    He  received  £60  a  year  as  teacher  of 


10  MAINWAEINO 

English  in  a  School  of  Languages — that  and 
some  very  occasional  and  precarious  journalism 
kept  body  and  soul  together. 

In  the  course  of  that  dinner,  at  the  Bon 
Provengal,  he  discovered  to  me  the  length  and 
depth  of  his  ambition.  It  was  simply,  as  we 
say  now,  to  make  good ;  but  I  did  not  get  then, 
and  it  was  many  years  before  I  could  get,  a  fuU 
view  of  the  outrageous,  exorbitant  state  of  be- 
ing which  he  would  have  allowed  to  be 
''good."  As  he  put  it  at  the  time,  it  was,  ''I 
have  got  it  in  me,  d'ye  see.  There's  a  furnace 
roaring  in  me  guts.  Let  it  out  then  and  lick  the 
grease  off  the  skins  of  the  English.  They  are 
no  countrymen  of  mine,  why  should  I  be 
squeamish  r* 

''You  think  of  politics  T'  I  enquired. 
"Home  Eule,  I  suppose?''  But  he  tossed  his 
hair  back. 

"No  such  thing.  Home  Kule,  my  dear  sir? 
Vestryman's  work.  I  shall  stand  for  an  Eng- 
lish constituency,  and  root  myself  in  the  fat 
English  loam.  Wait  till  I  have  my  roots  well 
■in,  and  see  if  I  heave  up  the  soil.  Labour,  my 
friend,  is  the  ticket.  There's  dirty  weather 
brewing  in  your  island.  Find  a  labourer  who 
knows  what  he  is  talking  about,  has  a  grudge. 


SQUAB  MAINWARING  11 

and  a  fire  in  his  gnts,  and  you  may  expect  a  con- 
flagration. I  haven't  starved  for  five-and- 
twenty  years  without  a  cud  of  gall.  I  have  it 
in  me  white  as  vitriol  and  as  bitter.'' 

** Labour"  had  not  then  the  significance  it 
has  now.  It  now  means  an  organized  political 
force,  but  it  had  no  such  amplication  in  the 
seventies.  I  took  it  from  him,  therefore,  as  a 
sporting  proposal,  very  light-heartedly.  *'We 
shall  weather  it,  I  daresay,"  I  said;  and  he 
gloomed. 

*  ^There'll  be  dirty  weather,"  he  said,  ^Svhen 
IVe  warmed  to  the  work."  After  a  pause  he 
burst  out:  ''How's  this  for  a  tool  in  your  hand? 
When  they  leave  their  middens  and  mixens, 
their  rat-haunted  hovels,  and  see  the  rich  in 
Park  Lane,  and  the  pretty  rich  in  "Wimbledon 
and  Hampstead?  See  them  with  eyes  washed 
out  in  bitter  gall  I  There's  a  few  of  you,  they 
will  say,  and  begod  there's  millions  of  us — 
starving,  stewing,  swarming  like  maggots  in  an 
old  cheese.  Come  now,  will  you  fight  it  out — 
or  will  you  hand  over?  What  then,  my 
friend?" 

He  seemed  to  me  like  a  man  who  knew  what 
he  could  do.  I  didn't  credit  him  with  any 
scruples — ^yet  I  sheltered  me  behind  the  Brit- 


12  MAINWAEING 

isli  character.  These  things  never  have  come 
off  since  the  time  of  Eichard  the  Second.  Not 
a  high  philosophy,  I  own;  the  philosophy,  in- 
deed, ascribed  to  the  ostrich.  But  it  has  served 
us  for  six  hundred  years. 

He  mellowed  as  the  Volnay  began  to  work, 
faced  ways  and  means,  warmed  to  the  idea  that 
journalism  might  get  him  out  of  his  usher  ship 
— which  he  said  stripped  the  skin  off  him  and 
rubbed  salt  into  the  raw  flesh.  Even  that  had 
its  graces,  he  would  allow.  **  Every  now  and 
then  I  get  one  of  'em  by  the  ankle  and  sweep 
the  room  out  with  him,''  he  said.  **And  after 
aU,  I  love  a  fight." 

With  all  his  copiousness — and  he  never 
stopped  talking,  except  to  bolt  his  food  or  to 
drink — I  noted  then  as  characteristic  of  him, 
which  has  been  more  than  confirmed  since,  that 
all  his  zest  was  for  the  future;  that  the  past 
indeed  did  not  really  exist  for  him.  I  was  told 
nothing — I  never  learned  anything  but  the  bare 
bones— of  his  birth  and  upbringing.  He  hardly 
spoke  of  Ireland,  and  when  of  Irishmen  it  was 
with  the  utmost  scorn.  * '  The  black  Irish ' '  they 
were  for  him.  He  had  been  educated — that  was 
obvious:  he  had  classics,  languages,  history, 
literature.     He  knew  the  byways  too :  he  knew 


SQUAB  MAINWAEINa  13 

eighteenth-century  poetry  extremely  well — 
much  better  than  I,  who  professed  poetry. 
But  he  cared  nothing  for  his  scholarship. 
He  had  got  it— and  the  sources  were  there- 
fore dried  up.  Facts  then  were  entirely 
to  seek  in  Mainwaring's  conversation,  though 
I  am  quite  sure  that  his  prospective  ac- 
tions were  facts  to  himself,  I  never  met  a  man 
so  sure  of  himself  as  he  was.  He  was  so  sure 
that  he  was  not  at  all  in  a  hurry.  Gnawing  his 
fingers,  or  dipping  his  crusts,  he  was  content  to 
starve  in  exile,  with  his  hollow  eyes  fixed  firmly 
upon  the  years  to  come.  So  he  was  fated, 
though  I  didn't  know  it,  to  mew  his  squabhood 
out  for  another  four  years.  How  old  was  he 
at  this  time?     Twenty-eight  to  thirty,  I  put  it. 

"We  parted,  after  that  first  dinner  of  ours,  the 
best  of  friends,  to  all  appearance,  though  I  did 
not  then  flatter  myself — nor  have  I  ever — that 
I  was  more  than  a  convenience  to  Mainwaring : 
a  sort  of  washpot.  Yet  it  was  he  who  dated  our 
next  meeting;  and  named  the  place.  As  for 
me,  I  was  glad  of  his  company,  and  admit  I 
was  interested  in  him.  He  had  plain  marks 
of  genius — complete  self-absorption,  and  that 
quiescence  under  the  ravages  of  the  inner  and 


14  MAINWAEINa 

more  remote  ego  which  only  geniuses  have. 
[With  all  the  rest  of  us  the  citizen  who  sits  in 
the  parlour-window  holds  the  latchkey.  If  he 
occasionally  leaves  it  about  and  suffers  the  loss 
of  it,  he  gets  it  back  again.  Not  so  with  Main- 
waring.  There  was,  apparently,  no  citizen- 
lodger — or  perhaps  there  was  no  parlour-win- 
dow. He  was  from  within  outwards  a  non- 
moral  being.  His  good  pleasure  was  his  law. 
The  policeman  was  simply  fate. 

I  had  two  or  three  funny  instances  of  that,  in 
the  course  of  our  dinners  together.  It  had  been 
arranged,  I  ought  to  say,  that  we  dined  each 
other  in  turn.  The  host  of  the  turn  chose  the 
eating-house,  ordered  the  meal,  and  naturally 
paid  for  it.  All  went  well  at  first ;  but  as  the 
month  waned  Mainwaring's  purse  emptied — 
while  his  will  to  feast  remained  as  imperative 
as  ever.  Then  came  the  inevitable.  How  was 
I  to  guess  that  he  had  not  a  stiver  to  his  name? 
We  had,  I  recollect,  a  bouillabaisse,  souhise 
cutlets,  ortolans,  and  two  bottles  of  Hermitage 
which  must  have  cost  eighteen  francs  apiece  at 
the  least.  Brandy  of  1834  with  our  coffee. 
We  sat  late,  and  he  talked  all  the  time  with  a 
red-hot,  biting  gaiety  quite  impossible  to  re- 
produce.   It  was  the  kind  of  wild  mockery  a 


SQUAB  MAINWAEING  15 

wit  might  have  played  with  the  night  before  his 
execution.  Then  came  the  hats  and  sticks — 
and  the  folded  bill  on  a  salver. 

Main  waring  didn't  touch  it,  but  stared  at  it, 
poking  his  head  forward,  as  if  he  saw  something 
dead — say,  John  the  Baptist's  head — on  the 
charger,  and  expected  to  smell  the  taint.  That 
may  have  lasted  sixty  seconds,  and  then  he 
plunged  his  hands  into  his  trouser-pockets 
(which  were  straight-cut  and  high  under  his 
waistcoat,  tossed  back  his  shock  of  black  hair 
with  a  great  gesture  of  scorn,  and  strode  out  of 
the  place  like  Irving  in  The  Corsican  Brothers, 
I  admit  that  I  paid  the  waiter,  and  even  paid 
him  again,  when  Mainwaring  repeated  the  gran' 
rifiuto.  But  when,  once  more,  he  was  under  the 
same  tragic  necessity  he  funked  it,  and  asked 
me  to  lend  him  the  money.  I  said,  when  I  had 
settled  up  for  him,  that  I  had  wondered  whether 
he  would  use  his  short  way  a  third  time,  and  he 
looked  at  me  like  a  soul  in  grief.  **My  dear, 
don't  ask  it  of  me.  It  would  involve  killing 
the  waiter."  **  Killing  him?  Why  killing 
him?"  **Me  dear  friend,  he  would  insult  me, 
and  I  should  be  bound  to  take  notice.  Observe 
this  as  an  elementary  rule  of  public  life,  that 
your  opening  pitch  rules  the  day.    If  you  be- 


16  MAINWARING 

gin  with  a  scream,  you  must  end  with  a  yell. 
If  you  stand  up  against  tyranny,  you  must  have 
the  tyrant's  head  on  a  pike  before  you  go  home 
to  bed.  To  that  rule  there's  no  exception — or 
none  for  me,  at  any  rate.  No,  no.  That  place 
is  shut  to  me." 

Such  was  the  callow  Mainwaring,  mewing  his 
youth  in  France,  with  his  far,  angry  sight  fixed 
upon  the  singing-birds  in  English  woodlands. 
I  left  him  in  Marseilles  and  went  eastward  in 
a  Messageries  boat.  I  heard  nothing  more  of 
him  for  five  years;  and  then  there  he  was,  up 
to  the  neck  in  the  thing.  You  shall  have  it  as 
it  came  to  me  in  Allenby's  letter. 


II 

REPOET   FROM   TRAFALGAH   SQUARE 

ALLENBY  was  a  junior  in  those  days,  with 
a  fair  Chancery  practice  which  would 
have  been  fairer  if  he  had  not  had  a  weakness 
for  journalism  of  the  lighter  kind,  and  for  the 
gadding  and  gaping  at  side-shows  which  play 
catchball  with  the  profession.  I  had  been  in 
chambers  with  him  five  years  before,  and  he 
■now  wrote  to  me  about  a  business  in  which  we 
had  both  been  then  concerned.  I  omit  all  that 
^as  unimportant,  but  he  wound  up  with  a  brisk 
description  of  the  London  news  which  we  shall 
want.  His  letter,  I  ought  to  have  said,  had  been 
hunting  me  since  June  and  only  ran  me  to 
ground  in  October. 

*^ Great  doings  here  on  May-day,''  he  wrote: 
**red  flag,  bloody  pikes,  broken  heads,  reign  of 
terror,  but  that  of  Saturn  in  full  view,  we  under- 
stand. The  out-of-works  of  last  winter  were 
really  responsible:  they  sowed,  but  the  Trade 
Unions  watered.  There 's  no  doubt  of  it,  ...  I 
was  out  and  about,  you  will  readily  belf.  ^e,  and 

17 


18  MAINWAEING 

saw  it  all  rather  well  frora  the  steps  of  the  Na- 
tional Gallery,  where,  at  need,  I  was  prepared  to 
protect  the  mild-eyed  Madonnas  tending  their 
babes  within,  and  (if  looting  were  to  become 
general)  to  have  a  ready  hand  for  the  little 
Van  Eyck  of  What-do-you-call-him  and  his  teem- 
ing wife  which  we  both  admire.  .  .  .  There  was 
an  enormous  crowd  swaying  like  a  tide  at  the 
turn  round  a  platform  at  the  feet  of  Nelson. 
On  that  rostrum  I  made  out  by  his  superb  ges- 
tures Ferdinand,  of  course,  the  Quixotic  Ferdi- 
nant ;  with  him  Bill  Birks,  M.P.,  in  a  tall  bowler : 
he  made  a  good  Sancho  till  he  lost  his  temper. 
But  the  great  man  was  a  new  man,  at  least  to 
me;  a  black-headed,  black-bearded  cadaver 
called  Mainwaring,  who  figured  afterwards  on 
the  charge-sheet  as  Eichard  Denzil  Blaise 
Mainwaring,  **of  no  occupation.''  Blaise  is 
good,  but  Blazes  were  better.  He  is  an  anar- 
chist with  a  sense  of  humour,  and  therefore 
should  go  far;  but  at  present  he  won't  go  any 
further  than  Wormwood  Scrubs.  He  has  all 
the  arts  of  riot  at  his  fingertips,  speaks  with  a 
steady  flow,  a  kind  of  maddening  monotony,  vit- 
riol out  of  a  feed-pipe.  The  effect  is  that  of  the 
Moorish  tom-tom,  to  stir  the  blood  to  boiling,  or 
to  give  you  and  internal  itch.    You  have  to 


FEOM  TEAFALGAE  SQUAEE        19 

scratch  or  rave — and,  by  George,  sir,  you  do 
scratch.  It  was  he  who  brought  on  the  fight- 
ing, for  fighting  there  was.  Ferdinand  got  a 
raw  sconce.  Bill  Birks  six  months. 

*^It  came  about  like  this.  While  Mainwar- 
ing  was  driving  it  in,  steadily,  monotonously, 
inevitably — but  good  matter,  you  know,  coher- 
ent, cogent,  syntactical  matter;  very  French 
matter,  however;  much  about  the  ** right ^'  to 
work  and  nothing  at  all  about  the  duty  of  doing 
it  decently — the  police  were  forming  a  line 
across  the  Square,  trying  to  push  the  mob  north 
and  south,  and  by  all  means  to  head  them  off 
Cockspur  Street  and  the  way  to  the  clubs. 
Some  of  them  got  up  Pall  Mall  afterwards — 
but  I  didn't  see  that  part.  Mainwaring  sees 
their  game,  but  keeps  up  his  dead-level  tom- 
tom business  until  he  judges  the  moment  come. 
His  crescendo  begins,  his  voice  rises  to  a  wail, 
to  a  long  howling  like  wolves  at  sundown ;  then 
he  is  transformed ;  he  tosses  back  his  head ;  his 
long  forelock  flies  up  like  sea-weed  on  the  crest 
of  a  wind-blown  wave.  *'To  Hell  with  the 
peelers !'' — that  gave  me  his  nation — came  like 
a  great  foghorn;  and  he  jumped  off  the  plat- 
form. 

**Then  chaos  and  old  night.    Mainwaring  is 


20  MAINWAEING 

a  tall  man,  and  I  could  see  him,  at  work,  swim- 
ming rather  than  hitting  out,  forging  a  way  for 
himself  towards  the  steps,  with  a  very  nasty- 
looking,  evidently  organized  band  of  followers. 
Marry,  here  was  miching  mallecho,  but  I  give 
you  my  word  that  what  followed  his  conquest  of 
the  steps  was  sheer  fun.  He  and  his  lot,  hav- 
ing turned  the  position,  charged  the  police  from 
behind.  ^^ Helmets,  my  lads,''  I  heard  from 
him,  and  have  sworn  to  it  in  Bow  Street  and 
at  the  Bailey,  where  he  got  six  months. 

**It  is  the  fact  that  they  dishelmed  a  round 
dozen  of  our  bobbies.  They  tipped  the  helmets 
forward  from  behind  and  then  tossed  them  into 
the  air.  The  crowd  in  front  caught  the  idea. 
The  air  seemed  thick  with  helmets,  bandied 
about  like  footballs — or  a  snowstorm  in  Brob- 
dingnag.  Every  one  but  the  police  enj  oyed  him- 
self, and  personally  I  don't  doubt  that  Main- 
waring  saved  us  from  a  good  deal  of  shop-loot- 
ing or  even  bloodshed.  But  the  police  got 
cross  and  used  their  truncheons;  then  one  or 
two  were  pulled  down  and  rather  badly  mauled. 
Mainwaring  himself — I  saw  him — unhorsed  a 
mounted  man,  and  got  up  himself.  That  little 
vanity  was  his  ruin.    They  nabbed  him  easily. 


FROM  TRAFALGAR  SQUARE        21 

The  Life  Guards  did  the  rest.    But  a  wag,  don't 
you  think! 

*'He  defended  himself,  both  before  Sir  John 
and  afterwards  at  the  Old  Bailey.  Very  well, 
too — but  he  was  savage  and  feared  not  God,  nor 
man  either.  You  easily  forgive  the  first,  but 
not  the  second.  That  put  the  jury's  back  up. 
If  he  had  excused  the  thing  as  a  joke,  which  in- 
deed it  was,  as  funny  a  thing  as  I  ever  saw, 
he  might  have  got  off — but  he  didn't.  He  was 
solemn  and  savage,  like  a  serious  cannibal  at  a 
feast.  He  made  a  mess  of  it,  in  fact.  Now  he's 
in  chokey,  thinking  it  over:  a  made  man  if  he 
sticks  to  it.  Don't  you  wish  you  had  been 
there?  .  .  ." 

There  was  more,  but  that  was  more  than 
enough.  I  was  young  enough  in  those  days  to 
like  mischief.  It  meant  movement,  anyhow. 
One 's  great  fear  was  stagnancy.  And  of  course 
I  remembered  Mainwaring  as  the  hungry  young 
pion  of  Marseilles  whose  tossing  up  of  his  fore- 
lock, as  Allenby  described  it,  had  so  often  solved 
the  difficulties  arising  out  of  a  dinner  eaten  and 
an  empty  pocket.  Looking  back  upon  him  as 
he  then  was  I  had  no  trouble  in  seeing  him  a 
candidate  for  tribunitial  powers.    Here  he  was, 


22  MAINWAEING 

then,  arrived.  '  I  wrote  to  him  in  his  prison, 
recalling  myself  to  his  mind,  and  our  feasts  and 
speculations  in  the  little  eating-houses  of  the 
Cannebiere;  but  I  had  no  answer.  However, 
not  long  afterwards — in  the  ensuing  spring,  I 
believe — I  met  him  in  Venice. 


m 

BALM   OF   HEK0E9 

VENICE  is  a  first-rate  meeting-place  for 
acquaintance,  because  there  is  nothing 
whatever  to  do  but  to  go  on  being  acquainted. 
The  nights  are  soft ;  nobody  dreams  of  going  to 
bed.  Florio^s  one  evening,  Quadri's  the  next: 
you  talk  and  talk  and  talk.  The  mornings  you 
have  to  yourself;  the  afternoons  you  use  for 
sleep  and  tea-drinking.  Before  dinner  you  can- 
ter in  the  Lido — and  all  the  time  you  talk  and 
go  on  being  acquainted. 

It  was  there  that  I  met  again  the  hero  of 
Trafalgar  Square  in  the  not  at  all  surprising 
company  of  Lady  Whitehaven.  But  by  that 
time  I  knew  enough  of  her  not  to  be  surprised. 
You  make  a  row,  you  get  a  broken  pate,  you  go 
to  jail.  If  it's  politics  you  are  somebody.  If 
you  are  somebody  you  are  drawn  into  Lady 
"Whitehaven's  {were,  alas!  That  generous 
pretty  woman  is  no  more)  hospitable  net. 
Here  then  was  Mainwaring,  swimming  with  the 
best — Lord  Gerald  Gorges  among  them,  on  his 

23 


24  MAINWAEING 

way  to  his  duties  in  Kome — and  bullying  his 
captor — which  she  adored.  Lord  "Whitehaven 
himself  was  the  first  of  the  party  I  saw,  Lord 
Whitehaven  himself,  with  his  hat  on  one  side  of 
his  head,  and  his  tilted  white  moustaches,  look- 
ing, as  ever,  like  a  Greneral  in  an  Offenbach 
opera-comique ;  permanently  satisfied  with  him- 
self and  the  universe.  He  hailed  me  by  saying 
that  he  thought  I  had  been  dead,  and  adding, 
*  *  Sorry — of  course  it  was  your  uncle. ' '  He  told 
me,  ^^IVe  got  the  Zenohia  off  the  mole.  We've 
been  nosing  about  in  the  Greek  islands.  Ever 
see  SantorinI  Worth  it,  I  assure  you.  It^s  so 
hot  there  that  they  harvest  their  grapes  by 
moonlight.  You  can  light  a  match  by  holding 
it  to  one  of  the  rocks.  *' 

I  asked  him  whom  he  had  on  board.  Her 
ladyship,  he  said,  and  a  convoy  of  lions; 
Gerald  Gorges,  Llanfrechfa,  Miss  Blint,  a 
poetess  and  hanger-on  whom  I  recollected,  old 
Windover.  That  was  all.  And  where  did  he 
come  in?  At  meal-time,  he  said,  and  at  the 
wings;  *^ Thank  God,  IVe  done  with  women! 
Now  I  can  enjoy  my  food,  and  look  on.  It  is 
amusing  me  a  good  deal.''  His  rogue's  eyes 
— blue  as  nemophilas,  but  rogue's  eyes  for  all 


BALM  OF  HEEOES  25 

that — twinkled.  Then  malice  lit  a  little  fire  in 
them. 

**By  George,  I  forgot  him  altogether.  We 
have  Mainwaring  with  us,  the  very  last  lion 
littered.  My  dear  chap,  you  must  know  Main- 
waring.     He's  a  snorter.'' 

I  laughed.  '  ^  Oh,  but  I  do  know  him.  I  knew 
him  years  ago,  when  he  snorted  in  a  whisper." 

**He  snorts  through  a  speaking-trumpet  now, 
my  boy,"  said  the  lord.  ** Whether  he  means 
it  or  not  I  can't  say.  My  mind  is  open.  But 
there's  no  doubt  of  one  thing  that  he  means." 

I  asked  him  what  he  thought.  He  said,  **I 
fancy  Mainwaring  is  abroad  with  an  oyster- 
knife.  Of  course  he  may  be  a  Saviour  of  So- 
ciety, and  all  that — as  well — but  I  doubt  it. ' ' 

I  said  that  he  struck  me  as  having  a  grudge 
against  the  world  at  large,  and  that  he  had  some 
reasons  for  it. 

'*He  has  the  cheek  of  the  devil,  anyhow," 
Lord  Whitehaven  said.  **My  wife  likes  him — 
that's  in  his  favour,  I  suppose." 

**He'll  certainly  take  it  so,"  I  answered  him 
—    **And  make  it  so,"  his  lordship  added. 

It  appeared  that  the  whole  party  was  on  the 
lagoon  somewhere,  and  Lord  Whitehaven  had 


26  MAINWAKING 

a  free  hand  for  the  day.  We  lunched  together, 
and  afterwards  I  met  his  company  on  the 
piazza.  There  again,  then,  was  Mainwaring — 
in  a  loose  grey  suit,  with  an  open-throated  col- 
lar and  red  tie.  Bareheaded,  club-bearded, 
still  horribly  thin,  with  a  smoulder  of  fire  in  his 
hollow  eyes — the  perfect  bomb-thrower  of  fic- 
tion. I  must  say  that  in  spite  of  all  that — or 
because  of  it — he  held  his  own  with  complete 
indifference  to  the  high  company  in  which  he 
found  himself ;  and  having  the  wit  to  be  entirely 
himself,  was  easily  the  most  significant  mem- 
ber of  the  party.  Lord  Gerald  Gorges,  that 
beautiful  young  man,  the  perfection  of  whose 
clothes  alone  might  have  intimidated  an  out- 
sider, looked  for  once  what  he  really  was — a 
handsome  oaf.  Mainwaring  had  resolved  him 
to  that.  He  was  sulky  and  speecliless.  As  for 
Lord  Llanf  rechf  a,  nothing  could  have  made  him 
look  less  than  a  gentleman ;  but  he  looked  such  a 
very  ordinary  gentleman  that  nobody  need 
notice  him.  There  was  no  question  of  Lady 
Whitehaven's  preoccupation.  One  saw  that  in 
a  moment. 

A    word    about    that    charming,    unhappy, 
sweet  creature — the  kindest  woman  I  ever  knew 


BALM  OF  HEKOES  27 

in  my  life — at  that  moment  upon  the  knife-edge 
of  her  career,  just  about  to  begin  her  slide 
downwards  to  heart-break  and  despair.  Her 
more  flaming  sister  Leven,  Duchess  and  terma- 
gant, has  put  her  in  the  shade  with  the  vulgar, 
but  never,  never  with  the  discerning.  The 
Duchess  was  a  peony  to  an  iris  in  her  regard, 
a  peacock  to  a  silver  pheasant.  But  she  was  a 
Duchess  who  could  romp  like  a  milkmaid — 
and  that's  enough  for  the  public.  But  Lady 
Whitehaven  was  a  delicate-looking  blonde,  with 
the  most  enchanting  air  of  naivete  upon  her 
that  I  have  ever  seen  in  a  woman.  It  was  no 
less  enchanting  for  being  a  deliberate  work  of 
art.  Of  course  nobody  was  ever  so  innocent  as 
Lady  Whitehaven  looked.  She  was  by  no 
means  what  she  appeared,  neither  delicate  (but 
on  the  contrary,  of  perfect  health),  nor  naive. 
But  she  had  not  been  given  Greuze  eyes  for 
nothing,  and  like  all  women  of  the  world  she 
had  made  it  her  early  business  to  find  out  what 
suited  her.  She  was  naive  to  perfection,  just 
as  she  was  always  perfectly  dressed;  and  with 
those  two  keen  and  dangerous  weapons,  having 
married  Whitehaven  and  a  sufficiency  of 
means,  she  set  out  upon  her  career  of  breaking 
hearts.    Poor  soul,  finally  she  broke  her  own. 


28  MAINWAEINQ 

Perhaps  she  was  not  beautiful — no,  as  Main- 
waring  justly  and  bluntly  said  to  me  by-and-by, 
she  certainly  wasn't;  but  she  was  delicately 
pretty,  really  a  lovely  woman — like  a  tea-rose — 
and  with  her  emotions  very  near  the  surface, 
her  sensibilities  enfolding  them  like  a  flower- 
sheath,  she  was  as  responsive  to  the  play  of 
character  as  a  taut  wire.  She  thrilled  to  a 
touch,  almost  to  a  breath. 

One  word  upon  the  queer  couple  she  made 
with  Whitehaven.  They  had  had  children,  but 
were  not  likely  to  have  any  more ;  yet  they  were 
excellent  together.  They  observed  a  strict, 
very  friendly  neutrality,  each  conducting  his 
own  affairs  and  ignoring  those  of  his  neighbour. 
Whitehaven  was  never  outrageous,  except  now 
and  then  in  what  he  was  pleased  to  say,  and 
though  she  went  pretty  close  to  the  edge,  I  think 
he  knew  to  a  horse-hair's  breadth  what  it 
amounted  to.  He  might — he  did — say  that  he 
couldn't  afford  to  walk  with  her  for  fear  of  be- 
ing mistaken  for  some  one  else — but  he  knew, 
bless  you !  A  squeeze  of  the  hand,  a  note,  a  kiss 
in  a  dusky  garden — certainly  he  believed  in  no 
more  than  that.  Nor  do  I — either  before 
Mainwaring's  day,  before  Gerald  Gorges'  day, 
or     since.     But     Mainwaring     knew     nothing 


BALM  OF  HEROES  29 

about  that.  The  elements  of  comedy  were  al- 
ready there.  Mainwaring  absorbed  in  the  lady, 
the  lady  no  longer  absorbed  in  Mainwaring,  if 
she  ever  had  been — but  dangerously  interested 
in  the  young  lord. 

Well,  we  met  on  the  Piazza,  and  I  saluted 
Lady  Whitehaven  as  she  deserved.  She  sa- 
luted me,  on  the  other  hand,  as,  on  the  whole, 
I  did  not  deserve — for  she  and  her  lord  were  old 
friends  of  my  family's  and  entitled  to  my  at- 
tentions. *^This  is  nice.  It  is  exactly  what  I 
have  been  saying  I  wanted.  How  do  you  man- 
age to  be  so  apropos?  Of  course  you  know  all 
of  us."  She  named  them:  *^Lord  Gerald 
Gorges'' — a  who-the-devil  nod  from  him.  We 
had  never  met — *^Lord  and  Lady  Wind- 
over,  Lord  Llanfrechfa,  Miss  Blint.  Oh, 
and  Mr.  Mainwaring —  You  must  know  each 
other." 

''It  so  happens  that  we  do,"  I  said,  *'thougli 
Mr.  Mainwaring  looks  as  if  he  didn  't  believe  it. ' ' 
Mainwaring,  who  had  been  gazing  at  the  pigeons 
about  the  roots  of  the  Campanile,  now  scowled 
at  me — then  laughed  (like  a  tombstone)  and 
shook  hands. 

''You  are  a  wraith  from  the  past,"  he  said. 
"You  remind  me  of  myself,  and  make  me  think 


30  MAINWAEINa 

I'm  as  hungry  as  I  always  was  then.  But  I've 
been  in  gaol  since  I  saw  you — " 

**And  are  evidently  still  there,"  I  put  in,  and 
made  Lady  Whitehaven  blush.  She  laughed  too 
— chiefly,  I  think,  because  Mainwaring  opened 
his  mouth  and  said  nothing.  He  didn't  know 
what  the  deuce  I  meant,  and  that  made  him 
cross. 

**Ah,  if  you're  laughing  at  me —  Well,  next 
time  I  go  to  gaol,  it's  not  you  I'll  ask  to  bail 
me  out. ' ' 

I  went  on.  ^^If  I  were  in  the  gaol  in  which 
you  are,  I'm  hanged  if  I'd  look  for  bail,"  and 
then  he  caught  me  up. 

*^My  service  is  perfect  freedom,  my  dear 
man,"  he  said.  *^Like  a  prisoner  of  war,  I  am 
learning  languages." 

**Not  from  me,  Mr.  Mainwaring,"  she  said. 
**You  know  too  many  for  me." 

*^  Madam,  I  forget  them  all  when  I  hear 
yours,"  he  said.  Lord  Gerald  had  strolled 
away,  feeling  that  that  was  no  place  for  him; 
but  she  called  him  back  by  Miss  Blint,  and  we 
all  sat  down,  joining  our  tables  into  one. 

I  had  no  opportunity  for  a  day  or  two  for  a 
talk  apart  with  Mainwaring.     So  far  as  I  saw 


BALM  OF  HEROES  31 

his  people  at  all  it  was  in  the  piazza  at  night-. 
They  slept  on  the  yacht  and  never  showed  up  in 
Venice  till  dinner-time.  It  was  plain  that  her 
ladyship  had  her  work  cut  out  for  her  to  keep 
Gerald  Gorges  up  to  the  mark  and  at  the  same 
time  hold  Mainwaring  at  a  distance  from  it. 
Master  Gerald  was  a  spoilt  child  of  fortune. 
The  son  of  a  Duke,  and  the  brother  of  one,  with 
a  private  fortune  derived  from  his  mother,  with 
his  years  and  his  good  looks,  there 's  no  wonder 
if  he  set  a  value  on  himself,  and  if  it  was  a  high 
figure.  He  was  tall,  thin,  dark,  hawk-nosed, 
high-sniffing;  clean-shaven,  with  a  beautifully- 
cut  mouth  and  chin.  As  for  his  eyes,  fringed 
by  long  black  lashes  which  would  have  set  up  a 
reigning  beauty,  I  assure  you  they  were  the 
colour  of  sapphires.  It  is  a  fact  that  Venetian 
women  used  to  follow  him  about,  and  that  one 
heard,  ^'Come  e  hello — hello!'^  in  whispers  by 
no  means  too  soft  for  him  to  hear.  He  could 
not  but  be  self-conscious,  and  of  course  he  was. 
I  don't  know  that  he  had  a  mind,  I  don't  know 
that  he  had  any  particular  reason  for  being 
alive.  I  am  not  sure  even  that  he  was  really 
alive.  He  rarely  spoke,  he  never  seemed  to 
like  anything.  He  was  one  of  those  people  you 
describe  by  negatives — except  in  the  matter  of 


32  MAINWARINO 

his  looks.  They  had  pushed  him  into  diplo- 
macy, and  he  was  on  his  way,  to  Eome :  a  pretty 
good  beginning  for  him,  too.  Now,  Lady 
Whitehaven  never  could  resist  a  pretty  fellow, 
even  if  he  was  stuffed  with  sawdust,  and  obvi- 
ously as  cold  as  a  dead  fish.  She  was  not  then 
in  love  with  him — though  on  the  point  of  be- 
ing so.  Directly  Mainwaring  was  out  of  the 
way,  that  happened;  for  the  Whitehavens  left 
the  yacht  to  go  round  to  Naples  and  accom- 
panied the  lordling  to  Rome. 

Meantime  Mainwaring  was  not  out  of  the 
way,  and,  as  Wordsworth  said,  did  not  intend. 
His  position,  I  take  it,  was  the  old  schoolboy 
one  of  ^'findings  and  keepings.''  Lady  White- 
haven, you  will  say,  had  picked  him  up. 
Mainwaring  did  not  think  so.  He  considered 
her  advance  as  a  tribute  to  worth,  and  might 
perhaps  have  gone  so  far  as  to  say  (if  pressed) 
that  really  he  had  picked  her  up.  I  never  saw 
in  any  man  so  cool  an  assumption  of  droit  de 
seigneur.  He  attached  her  to  his  person,  and 
kept  her  there.  If  he  chose  to  be  silent,  she 
had  to  do  the  talking,  and  he  answered  or  not, 
as  suited.  He  was  never  rude  to  her,  but  no 
courtier.    He  did  not  petition  for  wraps   to 


BALM  OF  HEROES  33 

carry,  but  held  out  his  hand  for  them  as  if  they 
were  his  appointed  duty,  his  business.  Gorges 
annoyed  him,  because  Gorges  was  too  dull  or 
too  arrogant  to  take  any  notice  of  him.  He 
got  on  very  well  with  Whitehaven — nobody 
could  help  that.  Whitehaven  was  so  perfectly 
affable. 

But  I  did  get  my  hour  with  him.  He  came 
to  lunch  with  me  in  my  rooms  and  talked  most 
of  the  afternoon.  He  told  me  how  he  had  got 
involved  in  the  Trafalgar  Square  row.  ^ '  I  fore- 
saw it,  sir,  a  year  before  the  day,  and  waited  for 
it.  We  used  to  meet,  a  lot  of  dockers  and  my- 
self, at  the  Fiddle  and  Cat  in  Limehouse.  They 
elected  me  a  delegate,  and  I  said  I'd  never  fail 
them.  Nor  would  I,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  your 
Ferdinand  Bergamot  and  his  toy-Socialism. 
Pikes  twisted  up  in  Liberty-silk  handkerchiefs ! 
Birks  the  M.P.  is  a  good  man— but  timid,  sir. 
Would  you  talk  to  twenty  thousand  hungry  men 
of  'Law  and  Order'? 

*'The  helmet  game  came  to  me  in  a  flash, 
when  I  saw  that  we  could  never  get  going  in 
earnest.  Good  fun  that  was — but  not  business. 
We   were   past   the    moment   for   real   work. 


34  MAINWARINQ 

Bergamot  spoilt  that  for  us.  He  was  by  twice 
too  long— and  flowery,  by  heaven!  He  to  talk 
about  Thermidor! 

''As  for  the  prison,  it  did  good,  sir.  My 
wife  felt  the  disgrace  of  it — she  a  young  girl 
whose  folk  had  always  been  respectable,  she 
said — '^ 

I  don't  know  why  I  was  surprised  to  hear  of 
his  marriage ;  but  I  was,  and  told  him  so.  He 
took  it  calmly. 

^'She  is  at  home,  with  her  own  people — '^  I 
pictured  a  mild  governess-type,  fair  and  easily 
flushed,  anxious  over  house-bills;  but  he  went 
on — 

''Her  father  is  a  carter,  and  her  mother  does 
charging  and  laundry-work.  Yes,  sir,  and 
Lizzy  was  on  her  knees  at  a  doorstep  when  I 
first  saw  her.'' 

There  was  nothing  to  say — and  after  all,  what 
was  there  in  it?  After  a  pause  I  muttered 
something  about  hoping  that  she  was  not  there 
still;  but  that  also  he  took  with  a  wave  of  his 
cigar.  "She  would  take  no  harm  by  it — on 
a  fine  day.  She  is  as  strong  as  a  young 
heifer." 

She  was,  he  said,  besides  that,  the  most  beau- 
tiful woman  on  earth  since  the  Venus  of  Milo's 


BALM  OF  HEEOES  35 

time.  ^ ^You'll  be  reminded  of  that  goddess 
when  you  see  Lizzy.'' 

I  asked  him  whether  she  was  as  good-looking 
as  his  hostess  of  the  moment.  ''There's  no 
comparison  possible,"  he  told  me.  ''Lady 
Whitehaven  is  a  lovely  woman ;  Lizzy  is  a  beau- 
tiful woman.  You  cannot  compare  a  star  and  a 
rose." 

More  came  out  by  degrees.  "She  intimi- 
dated me,  sir.  I  saw  her  on  her  knees,  and 
felt  that  I  must  fall  on  mine.  Faith,  they  were 
giving  way.  She  was  about  the  house  all  the 
morning.  She  scented  and  lit  it  up.  I  used  to 
see  her  in  the  village,  afternoons,  with  her 
friends.  She  walked  like  a  young  goddess 
among  them,  unconscious  of  her  grace.  She 
laughed  and  talked  with  them — unconscious 
condescension.  And  they  took  her  for  their 
equal.  I  talked  to  her.  She  answered  fair 
and  straight.  No  'sir'  to  me.  She  concealed 
nothing — why  should  she?  A  housemaid  on  her 
holiday — and  tall  as  a  queen.  She  knocked  me 
out  of  time.  I  followed  her  about — I  took  her 
for  walks.  Love  her!  I  worshipped  her.  I 
dreamed  of  her  all  night  and  thought  of  her 
all  day.  What  was  I  to  do?  I  spoke  to  her 
mother  and  terrified  the  good  soul — but  I  didn't 


36  MAINWARINa 

care.  I'm  not  a  villain,  Whitworth.  There 
was  but  one  thing  to  be  done.  Besides,  she  was 
a  good  girl.  Cold  as  spring-water.  As  pure 
as  the  family  Bible.  Well,  I  won  over  the 
mother,  and  she  tackled  her  husband  for  me. 
He  didn't  care  for  it,  and  I  don't  blame  him. 
I  hadn't  a  rap — nor  had  he.  But  I  was  not  his 
sort,  and  he  knew  that.  He  didn't  want  any 
politics.  *Damn  my  politics,'  I  said.  ^Mr. 
Mathews,  I'll  serve  your  daughter  well.  If 
you  believe  I  have  a  head  on  me  you  must  know 
that  I  shall  succeed.'  He  didn't  know  but  I'd 
succeed — but  it  would  be  a  strange  world  for 
his  Lizzie.  There  it  was.  I  went  back  to  the 
mother  and  battered  at  her  heart.  She's  an 
ambitious  woman — come  of  a  better  race.  She 
thinks  she  stooped  to  her  good  man.  Has  al- 
ways looked  to  her  daughters  to  lift  themselves. 
She  has  pinched  to  get  them  taught.  Good  man- 
ners, good  conduct,  beauty,  grace,  they  have; 
but  Lizzy  is  the  pride  of  her  heart.  Her  third 
girl — and  there  are  three  below  her.  Done  on 
twelve  shillings  a  week  and  what  she  can  earn 
for  herself.     Heavens,  she  is  a  masterpiece. 

'^Then  I  spoke  to  Lizzy.  She  was  frightened 
cold.  Wouldn't  hear  of  it.  But  I  stormed  her, 
with  her  mother's  help.     She  had  never  had  a 


BALM  OF  HEROES  37 

lover  before.  She  had  one  then.  Beautiful, 
noble  creature !  Before  I  left  Merrow  she  was 
mine.  And  she's  as  poor  now  as  when  she  was 
earning  her  eighteen  pounds  a  year  and  all 
found. ' ' 

A  strange,  wild  tale — just  like  him.  He  was 
on  fire  with  it  before  he  had  finished,  and  work- 
ing it  in  with  his  schemes  to  improve  the  con- 
dition of  labourers  at  home,  he  ended  by  seeing 
himself  the  saviour  of  society.  ^^I  have  done 
right.  You  will  see  for  yourself  when  you  come 
home.  What  nobler  thing  can  there  be  than  a 
good  and  beautiful  woman!  There  are  a  round 
ten  millions  of  them  in  England.  Am  I  their 
worse  champion  for  holding  one  of  them  in  my 
arms?  Is  the  child  I  shall  give  her  the  worse 
born?  Lizzy,  my  good  sir,  is  descended  from 
the  primal  race  of  your  country.  Pure  descent 
— no  mixture  of  blood.  My  child  will  have  the 
milk  and  marrow  of  Britain  in  his  flesh.  Noble 
through  the  mother.  So  it  is  that  nobility 
should  come.  I  am  for  the  matriarchy  since  I 
have  known  Lizzy.''  He  had  worked  himself 
up  to  see  no  other  woman  in  the  world — at  the 
moment. 

After  that  he  borrowed  a  fiver,  saying,  *^One 
must  keep  up  with  these  gentry — and  I  have 


38  MAINWARINO 

but  sixteen  shillings  in  my  pocket,  barring  the 
price  of  the  ticket  home.''  It  then  appeared 
that  he  was  leaving  in  a  week.  ^^ There's  ru- 
mour of  trouble  in  the  north,  and  I  must  be 
there." 

^'I  think  I'll  look  in  on  you  in  the  north,"  I 
said,  *'and  see  how  you  make  trouble." 

^*It  will  be  worth  it,"  he  said;  ^'but  it  will  be 
hungry  work." 

^^A  strike?" 

*^Ah,"  said  he,  **such  a  strike  as  will  need 
a  man  to  hold  up.  I  know  Avhat  I  am  to  do. 
I  shall  win,  you  will  see.  No  fighting  or  ma- 
chine-breaking. Just  starvation.  We'll  shame 
the  Government  into  action." 

*'And  how  will  you  keep  'em  at  starvation- 
point?" 

He  squared  his  jaw.  '*By  starving  myself — 
myself  and  my  young  and  beautiful  wife — of  the 
blood-royal  of  Britain." 

^^Poor  girl,"  I  said,  but  he — 

**Not  at  all — not  at  all.  Beauty  has  its  busi- 
ness in  the  world,  as  well  as  its  pleasure.  Be- 
sides, she's  used  to  it." 

You  can  never  tell  how  a  man  feels  about  his 
wife  by  the  way  he  speaks  about  her.    Main- 


BALM  OF  HEEOES  39 

waring 's  last  speech  sounded  cavalier  to  me, 
but  I  had  noticed  that  he  treated  Lady  White- 
haven in  exactly  the  same  fashion.  Anyhow, 
he  was  conscious  of  his  Lizzy's  good  looks,  and, 
to  me,  it  was  as  plain  as  a  pikestaff  that  her  fair 
ladyship  was  quite  ready  to  send  him  back  to 
his  Lizzy  as  soon  as  might  be.  She  had  no  fur- 
ther use  for  him.  The  comet  of  a  season,  or 
the  meteor  of  an  October  night,  he  was  now 
spent,  so  much  dry  dust.  That  was  her  feeling ; 
but  it  wasn't  Mainwaring's.  Main  waring  had 
no  notion  of  being  chucked  away  like  an  orange- 
peel.  There  he  was,  there  intended  to  be.  He 
didn  't  like  leaving  her  at  all — he  gave  her  little 
but  scowls  and  crooked  brows  for  the  rest  of  his 
time :  a  queer  way  of  commending  himself  to  a 
woman  already  bored  with  him,  but  truly  a 
lover 's  way.  She  took  it  like  the  angel  of  sweet- 
temper  that  she  was,  and  played  her  two  fish 
beautifully.  Gerald  Gorges — horrible  young 
prig — was  sulky  too.  He  was  there  to  be 
adored,  and,  as  she  was  beginning  to  adore  him 
in  very  truth,  it  must  have  cost  her  dreadful 
pain.  Little  he  cared  for  that.  But  she — ! 
Well,  I  don't  pretend  to  say  that  a  married 
woman  and  a  mother  ought  to  be  in  love  with 
one  young  man  and  allow  herself  to  be  loved 


40  MAINWARINd 

by  another,  but  I  do  point  out  that  in  pure  kind- 
ness to  Mainwaring  she  allowed  Gerald  Gorges 
to  stab  her  to  the  heart.  What  man  would  do 
as  much  for  a  bower  full  of  women? 

Gorges  and  Mainwaring  never  spoke  to  each 
other.  Gorges  pretended  that  Mainwaring  did 
not  exist,  and  Mainwaring  showed  that  he 
would  have  trodden  Gorges  out  of  life  if  he 
had  had  half  a  chance.  It  was  pretty  comic 
for  lookers-on.  Old  Whitehaven  was  always 
chuckling  to  himself  over  it,  and  once  he  fairly 
winked  me  into  a  wicked  partnership. 

Mainwaring  grew  heavily  sentimental  as  the 
day  drew  near,  and  held  her  hand  in  the  semi- 
dark.  She  oughtn't  to  have  allowed  it,  but  she 
did.  He  made  no  pretence  of  concealing  his 
feelings  now.  I  heard  him  say  at  the  theatre 
— ''Then  you  will  write T'  He  didn't  care 
who  heard  it.  She  nodded  and  smiled,  and  he 
leaned  back  in  his  chair,  satisfied  for  the 
moment. 

She  went  to  the  station  to  see  him  off.  La 
Blint  was  with  her,  and  so  was  Whitehaven, 
the  old  brick.  She  ought  to  have  been  grateful 
to  him  for  that,  but  no  doubt  she  would  have 
done  as  much  for  him.  While  we  were  wait- 
ing for  the  horn  Mainwaring  had  taken  the  lady 


BALM  OF  HEKOES  41 

away  to  a  remote  part  of  the  platform  and  held 
her  in  close  talk.  I  saw  his  fierce  chin,  his  hec- 
toring forefinger.  She  seemed  to  me  to  cower 
below  him,  and  reminded  me  of  a  wood-pigeon 
before  a  large  and  very  lean  tom-cat.  White- 
haven saw  everything  but  didn^t  let  on.  Miss 
Blint,  I  thought,  was  too  scandalized  to  find 
small-talk.  The  ball  was  kept  up  between 
Whitehaven  and  me.  Personally  I  was  wonder- 
ing what  would  happen  when  they  parted. 
Mainwaring  was  equal  to  anything,  and  she 
not  equal  to  refusing  anything.  However,  he 
didn  't  touch  her,  but  came  lunging  back,  slightly 
in  advance  of  her,  and  with  no  more  ceremony 
went  through  us  into  his  carriage.  The  fac- 
chino,  hovering  about  over  his  hand-luggage, 
got  nothing ;  we  got  nothing ;  the  train  lumbered 
out.  Mainwaring  leaned  from  the  window, 
nodded  impartially  to  us  all — and  that  was  the 
last  of  him  for  the  moment. 


IV 

THE   STRIKE   AT  CULGAITH 

WHEN  I  came  back  to  London  in  the 
early  summer  the  Culgaith  strike  had 
been  going  three  weeks.  The  town  was  full  of 
it,  and  the  journalists  were  whirling  their 
words  like  Moors  their  match-locks  at  a  powder- 
play.  Everybody  knew  Main  waring  ^s  name. 
He  was  reported  at  length,  and  even  the  old 
Times  had  a  guarded  word  or  two  in  praise  of 
his  handling  of  the  thing.  I  saw  that  he  was 
playing  what  we  now  call  Passive  Eesistance; 
but  the  puzzle  was,  not  that  he  kept  the  Cul- 
gaith men  from  working,  but  how  he  prevented 
other  men  from  taking  their  places.  Picketing 
was  not  recognized  in  my  young  days,  though 
of  course  it  existed.  But  for  three  weeks  the 
pits  at  Culgaith  had  been  idle,  the  whole  popu- 
lation of  Skilaw  was  starving,  and  nobody  from 
outside  had  come  in.  Mainwaring  had  drawn 
a  magic  circle  round  Skilaw  and  Culgaith,  and 
the  proprietors  seemed  to  be  powerless.  The 
military — that  favourite  weapon  of  authority — 

42 


THE  STRIKE  AT  CULGAITH        43 

could  not  be  used,  because  there  was  nothing  to 
use  them  on.  And  yet  the  newspapers  could  tell 
you  nothing  of  Mainwaring's  thaumaturgics. 

Greatly  interested  in  it  all,  I  wrote  to  him 
at  a  venture,  addressing  him  simply  at  Culgaith, 
Skilaw,  Durham,  and  received  a  prompt  reply 
in  a  beautiful,  clear  hand — certainly  not  his. 
He  had  signed  it  with  a  blotted  scratch,  R.  D. 
B.  M.  The  letter  said  simply,  **Come  up,  my 
dear  Whitworth,  and  see  me  with  the  many- 
headed  on  a  leash.  There  is  nothing  to  eat ;  but 
you  can  bear  for  a  day  and  night  what  we  have 
borne  for  near  a  month.  These  people  make 
me  envy  their  Englishry.  I  never  did  that  be- 
fore. By  the  Lord,  sir,  they  are  heroes.  I 
think  there  will  be  another  fortnight  of  it — and 
then  we  '11  roll  up  the  petition  and  have  it  over 
the  Commons  like  a  Juggernaut.''  On  that  I 
went  up  to  stay  with  some  people  I  knew  at 
Plassenby  in  the  North  Riding,  and  went  over 
to  Skilaw  in  due  course. 

Anybody  who  knows  East  Durham  will  know 
what  I  saw.  A  long,  shallow  valley  filled  from 
end  to  end  with  squalid  waste-tips,  gaunt  cranes 
like  gallows,  and  the  shabby  excoria  of  industry. 
The  hillsides  were  encrusted  with  row  upon  row 
of  one-storeyed  hovels,  a  sordid,  hiving  town 


44  MAINWAEING 

filled  up  the  bottom.  Dust  and  flies  thickened 
the  air,  and  all  day  the  sun  struck  down  through 
a  burning  mist.  The  station  was  crowded  with 
fixed-eyed  and  pallid  men.  The  women  mostly 
kept  at  home.  I  don^t  think  I  saw  one  in  the 
station. 

Mainwaring  was  speaking  somewhere  at  the 
time,  I  was  told  by  an  emissary,  who  directed 
me  to  his  lodging  in  Alma  Terrace;  half  an 
hour's  walk  for  a  starving  man,  said  my  mes- 
senger; *^but  you  could  do  it  in  fifteen  minutes, 
maybe. ' ' 

I  said  I  should  go  down  and  hear  Mainwaring 
speak,  and  went  with  my  silent  friend,  thread- 
ing a  way  in  streets  filled  with  listless,  idle 
people.  They  all  had  the  slow  yet  bright  eyes 
of  famine.  I  caught  sight  of  a  woman  or  two, 
of  some  children,  in  doorways,  sitting  still,  star- 
ing at  nothing  in  particular,  and  my  heart 
failed  me.  *^Good  God,  what  do  you  all  live 
on?''  I  asked. 

* '  Our  own  hearts,  mainly, ' '  he  told  me.  ' '  But 
we  get  a  little  strike-pay  yet;  and  Mr.  Main- 
waring goes  round  about  the  countryside,  and 
mostly  brings  bax^k  something  for  the  women." 

**Mr.  Mainwaring  is  a  brave  man." 

**He  is  that,  and  he  needs  to  be.     There's 


THE  STRIKE  AT  CULGAITH        45 

many  would  have  his  life  to  end  the  strike." 

^^But  you  think  he's  right  to  keep  on?" 

*^Ay,  IVe  never  doubted  him." 

^^He'll  not  fail  if  you  don't." 

**We  shall  fail  if  he  does."  Then  he  pointed 
to  a  swarming  crowd  at  a  street-end.  *^He's 
yonder."  I  heard  shouts  of  laughter  and  ap- 
plause. 

''What  is  he  at?"  I  wdnted  to  know. 

''He's  telling  them  Irish  tales,"  I  was  told. 

We  went  as  near  as  we  could,  and  I  heard 
Mainwaring  for  the  first  time.  He  was  as  lean 
as  a  winter  wolf,  and  was  standing  on  a  pack- 
ing-case, from  which  an  extravagant  gesture 
might  easily  have  upset  him.  But  he  used  no 
gestures  at  all.  He  had  a  great,  slow  voice 
like  a  foghorn,  monotonous  in  the  extreme,  but 
impressive  from  its  very  monotony,  and,  as  I 
afterwards  discovered,  as  apt  for  tragic  or  im- 
passioned speech  as  it  was  undoubtedly  effective 
for  his  present  purpose — which  was  to  amuse, 
these  empty-bellied  hordes.  Everybody  knows-, 
an  Irish  story  or  two,  and  I  don't  pretend  to 
tell  his.  There  was  nothing  in  them.  I  remem- 
ber that  one  was  about  the  young  policeman 
stationed  in  the  Curragh  road  to  prevent  racing. 
He  was  soon  entranced  by  the  outrageous  spec- 


46  MAINWAEINa 

tacle,  his  note-book  forgotten.  ^^Begod,  that's 
the  best  of  them  yet!"  he  was  heard  to  cry  as 
one  Jehu  came  tearing  through,  cutting  out  or 
cutting  do\^Ti  all  rivals.  It  was  that  kind  of 
thing — Leveresque  farce;  but  told  with  a 
brogue,  a  twinkle  and  a  happy  malice  I  never 
heard  equalled.  He  seemed  to  have  an  inex- 
haustible supply,  his  audience  a  boundless  appe- 
tite. I  don 't  know  how  long  he  had  been  at  it — 
but  I'm  sure  I  had  three-quarters  of  an  hour 
of  it.  My  friend  from  the  station  told  me  that 
he  filled  the  mornings  up  that  way,  and  kept  his 
serious  talk  for  the  afternoons.  In  the  even- 
ings he  went  out  visiting.  He  had  the  whole 
thing  in  hand,  and  all  the  Union  officials  were 
at  his  call.  **We  never  had  a  man  to  touch 
him;  we  never  learned  of  such  a  man  outside 
a  picture-book.  Wherever  he  goes  in  the  county 
of  Durham  it's  the  same  thing." 

*'Is  that  how  he  prevented  the  blacklegs  from 
coming  in?" 

'' Ay,  just  that.  He  heard  tell  that  a  party  of 
them  was  coming  in  from  Armfield  Plain,  so  he 
went  to  the  Junction  and  spoke  to  them  on  the 
platform.  The  police  was  all  there,  and  heard 
him ;  but  he  never  said  a  word  they  could  take 


THE  STRIKE  AT  CULGAITH        47 

hold  of.  They  all  went  back  to  Armfield  by 
the  next  train.  They  tried  it  on  with  men  from 
Tyneside  after  that,  and  had  the  company  run 
a  special  through  to  Skilaw.  He  met  them  in 
the  station-yard,  when  they  refused  him  entry 
to  the  platform.  They  all  went  back  home 
again — every  man  of  them." 

^^He's  a  man,''  I  said. 

**He  is  that.  Some  say  he's  more.  If  he 
wins  through  this  bout  it's  my  belief  he'U  be 
chosen  for  every  seat  in  the  county  at  the  next 
election. ' ' 

*  *  One  will  be  enough,  even  for  Mr.  Mainwar- 
ing,"  I  thought;  but  Mainwaring's  admirer 
must  have  the  last  word. 

**He'd  fill  three,  would  Mr.  Mainwaring." 

I  made  way  through  the  press  of  pale  and 
glazed-eyed  men  and  met  the  hero  in  the  midst. 
He  was  as  thin  as  a  shotten  herring,  and  had 
hunger  in  his  eyes.  His  dry  lips  gleamed  grey 
through  his  black  beard  and  moustache.  I 
said,  ^* Mainwaring,  you're  killing  yourseK,'' 
but  he  turned  it  off.  ^^I'll  kill  some  of  the 
Syndicate  first,"  he  said.  **We  haven't  got  to 
grips  yet." 


48  MAINWARING 

*^If  you  can  last  out  at  this  present  game/' 
I  said,  *^you  are  bound  to  win  without  a  drop 
of  blood/' 

**Well,  that's  my  plan,"  he  said.  **IVe 
heard  that  they  are  meeting  the  Member  to- 
day." 

'*Do  they  meet  him  here?"  Mainwaring 
stared. 

*^Here!  Never  in  the  world.  He'd  as  soon 
meet  in  a  beeswarm.  It  would  take  more  than 
twenty  of  me  to  save  him  whole.  The  women 
would  tear  his  entrails  out." 

*^The  women  don't  show  up." 

**They  cannot.  They've  sold  nearly  every 
rag  that  covers  them,  and  children  are  being 
bom  dead  every  day.  We  send  a  list  of  them 
to  the  Syndicate — one  to  every  member  of  it." 

**0h,"  I  said,  **you  have  them." 

Mainwaring  sucked  at  his  lips.  *^If  we  live 
to  see  it.  But  by  God  we  are  fairly  famished 
here.  Come  home  with  me  now  and  see  my 
poor  Lizzy.  Saint  Elizabeth  of  Hungry  I  call 
her,  God  forgive  me." 

*'God  will  forgive  all  your  jokes  in  this 
battle,"  I  said.  *'I  felt  the  tragedy  all  through 
your  good  stories." 

**  Those  are  the  best  things  I  ever  got  out  of 


THE  STRIKE  AT  CULGAITH        49 

Ireland, ' '  said  he.     ' '  I  Ve  been  at  them  now  for 
ten  days,  and  never  told  the  same  tale  twice.'' 

Alma  Terrace,  blistering  on  the  hillside,  and 
full  of  flies,  took  ns  a  good  half -hour  of  climb- 
ing, so  much  we  were  beset  by  anxious  strikers. 
A  baby  ill,  a  baby  dead,  a  woman  in  delirium, 
a  child  fainting  at  school.  Heartrending— but 
iMainwaring  listened  to  every  account  without 
blanching,  decided  each  on  its  merits,  prescribed 
the  doctor  to  be  sent  for,  the  chemist  where  there 
was  a  credit  given  (there  were  two  doctors  and 
two  chemists  bold  enough  to  serve),  and  took 
down  names  for  extra  rations  that  evening. 
Then  we  stooped  at  a  low  open  door  and  saw 
Mrs.  Mainwaring  at  a  wash-tub  in  the  back- 
kitchen. 

He  had  not  spoken  wildly,  for  once.  She  was 
a  beautiful  young  woman,  though  she  was  woe- 
fully pale  now,  and  as  thin  as  a  rake.  Truly 
she  had  the  round  small  head,  broad  shoulders 
and  noble  bust  of  the  Venus,  but  she  was  dark- 
haired  and  dark-hued,  with  a  pair  of  pj- 
green  eyes  ringed  with  black  of  extraordix  y 
directness  and  intensity.  As  is  always  the  Cc.-e 
with  the  real  working-class,  her  manners  were 
unembarrassed   and   simple.    I   find  that  the 


50  MAINWAEINa 

highest  and  the  lowest  are  so — the  highest,  I 
suppose,  because  they  don't  care  to  be  anything 
but  themselves,  the  lowest  because  they  don't 
dare.  It  is  the  middle-classes  which  make  you 
uncomfortable  because  they  can  never  be  simple. 

Mrs.  Mainwaring  deprecated  my  offered  hand 
by  showing  me  her  sudded  pair,  and  then  waited 
for  me  to  say  something.  She  smiled  at  hunger. 
''Oh,  that's  nothing  to  me.  Often  and  often, 
when  I  was  a  child,  we  had  nothing  in  the  house 
but  stale  crusts  and  a  cold  potato  or  two.  The 
crusts  got  so  hard  that  we  used  to  soak  them 
in  water  and  drink  them.  But  Mr.  Mainwar- 
ing's  not  like  me.  It  hurts  him.  It's  bad  for 
him.  Why,  look  at  all  the  work  he  does.  I 
do  mind  that. ' ' 

I  said, '  ^  He 's  doing  great  things.  He 's  show- 
ing himself  a  great  man.  You  are  proud  of 
him." 

She  didn't  admit  it.  ''It's  better  to  be  con- 
tented than  talked  about.  Of  course  he  is  help- 
ing the  people.  I  don't  know  where  they  would 
be  without  him — now." 

"What  do  you  mean  by — ^now?" 

Her  eyes  brooded.  "Well,"  she  said  slowly, 
"I  don't  know  that  I  ought  to  say  it — ^but  they 
were  earning  three  times  what  my  father  earned 


THE  STRIKE  AT  CULGAITH        51 

before  this  began,  and  working  almost  half  the 
hours. ' ' 

She  wouldn't  say  any  more;  but  I  was  struck 
by  what  she  said.  Mainwaring  came  down  at 
that  moment,  his  hands  washed,  and  he  sat  down 
to  what  there  was  to  eat. 

We  dined  on  stale  bread,  potatoes  and  tea. 
Mainwaring  had  no  money,  and  had  been 
accorded  strike-pay  with  the  pitmen.  He 
munched  contentedly  enough,  talking  fiercely 
throughout  of  what  he  should  do — never  of  what 
he  had  done.  His  wife  ate  little,  but  made  the 
most  of  her  tea.  She  was  in  plain  black,  with 
a  large  white  apron.  She  bore  her  discomfort 
and  the  squalor  of  her  surroundings  with  a 
simple  dignity  which  I  admired  extremely.  I 
discovered  another  point  of  resemblance  with 
the  grandees  in  the  way  she  and  her  husband 
took  each  other  for  granted.  They  reminded 
me  of  the  Whitehavens,  and  that  sort  of  couple 
with  whose  ways  I  was  so  far  much  more  famil- 
iar— indeed  I  don't  know  that  I  had  ever  met 
one  of  Lizzy  Mainwaring 's  nation  on  such  terms 
before.  Middle-class  women  will  sulk  half  the 
evening  if  their  men  are  not  loverlike,  with 
flowers  to  bring  home,  or  a  *^Not  tired,  dear- 
est?"   They  have  a  preconception,  set  up   a 


52  MAINWAEINa 

standard.  Neither  the  Whitehavens  nor  the 
Mainwarings  bother  themselves  with  such  gear. 
Mrs.  Mainwaring  didn't  ask  him  what  his  work 
for  the  afternoon  was,  and  when  he  mentioned 
it,  it  was  only  to  disburden  himself,  not  to  set 
her  up  with  the  knowledge.  He  had  a  com- 
mittee, and  two  meetings  to  go  to,  and  all  his 
morning's  post  to  deal  with  at  night.  She,  so 
far  as  I  could  make  out,  had  nothing  to  do  but 
to  write  at  his  dictation. 

He  went  off  to  his  committee,  pretty  well  as 
hungry  as  he  had  come  home,  and  his  wife 
cleared  the  table  and  washed  up.  She  smilingly 
declined  my  offer  of  help,  but  allowed  me  to  put 
plates  on  the  rack.  When  all  that  was  done, 
the  fire  made  up,  and  the  kettle  put  on,  she  took 
her  apron  off  and  sat  quietly  do\vn  with  her 
needlework.  I  saw  what  she  was  making,  and 
indeed  there  were  other  signs. 

I  had  been  brought  up  in  the  country,  and  was 
accustomed  to  country  people;  but,  as  I  have 
said,  I  had  never  been  in  such  a  relationship 
as  this  to  a  country  girl.  It  is  curious  how  we 
are  regulated  at  every  turn  in  England  by  class- 
prejudice.  I  have  been  attracted  by  a  pretty 
face  often  enough;  I  may  have  paid  a  servant 
a  compliment  and  relished  her  blushes.     There 


THE  STRIKE  AT  CULGAITH        53 

lias  always  been  condescension  implied  and 
understood.  Here  for  the  first  time  in  my  life 
I  met  a  peasant  girl  on  equal  terms.  I  felt  it, 
I  felt  it  a  privilege,  and  took  pains  to  deserve 
it.  I  did  my  utmost  to  talk  to  her  as  if  she  had 
been,  say,  Lady  Whitehaven.  But  I  don't  like 
to  say  that'  I  succeeded.  At  the  time,  I  felt 
that  I  was  a  dead  failure.  She  was  guarded  in 
what  she  said,  without  seeming  to  be  so.  Short 
of  cross-examination  I  did  not  see  how  I  was  to 
make  her  talk.  Here  Mainwaring  was  much 
more  successful,  with  his  brusque  cavaliering, 
than  I  was.  He  took  her  beauty  for  granted; 
I  took  it  as  a  thing  for  homage.  He  took  her 
servitude  for  granted;  I  seemed  to  deprecate 
it  by  everything  I  said  to  her.  And  yet — she 
has  told  me  since  that  she  had  been  touched  by 
my  behaviour.  **You  seemed  to  understand 
me.  I  wanted  to  tell  you  everything.  As  it 
was,  I  told  you  more  than  I  ought.'' 

She  meant,  I  suppose,  that  she  had  told  me, 
from  her  own  point  of  view,  more  or  less  what 
he  had  told  me.  Her  courtship  and  marriage, 
for  instance.  *^It  was  all  done  in  a  rush.  I 
didn't  know  that  he  cared  for  me  like  that.  I 
hadn't  thought  about  it.  I  was  in  no  hurry  to 
get  married.    He  asked  me  to  walk  with  him, 


54  MAINWAEING 

and  Mother  thought  I  had  better  go.  So  I 
went.  Then  he  asked  me  to  marry  him,  and  I 
^said,  it  can't  be  right.  Mother  and  Father 
didn't  agree  about  it.  But  Mother  was  always 
looking  for  ways  to  rise." 

**You  were  happy  as  you  were,  thenf 

*^Yes,  I  was  happy.  I  liked  my  work,  and 
there  was  always  home  to  look  forward  to. 
Now  it  is  all  dark.  I  don't  know  my  way 
about." 

**You  have  no  home  yet!" 

**We  have  been  in  lodgings  in  London  mostly. 
Mr.  Mainwaring  has  been  away  very  much. 
We  have  been  married  a  year  nearly.  When 
this  strike  is  over  I  expect  we  shall  go  to  London 
again,  unless — "  There  she  stopped,  and  I 
knew  what  she  meant.  The  great  event  of  her 
life,  that  for  which  Nature  made  her,  could  not 
be  far  off. 

I  talked  to  her  about  her  husband,  told  her 
of  my  early  acquaintance  with  him,  and  of  what 
promise  he  seemed  full.  She  heard  me,  with- 
out much  enthusiasm,  I  thought.  *^Yes,  he  is 
very  clever.  He  has  a  great  power  over  other 
people.    I  know  that.    But — " 

<^  But— what?" 

She  grew  vehement,   shook  her  head.     ^*It 


THE  STEIKE  AT  CULGAITH        55 

frightens  me.  I'm  not  fit  for  that  life.  How 
should  I  beT'  I  thought  that  she  pitied  her- 
self. Her  eyes  were  full.  She  recovered,  how- 
ever, in  a  moment.  *^I  ought  not  to  tell  you 
that.     Don't  think  of  it,  please. 

*^I  am  trying  to  learn  French,"  she  told  me. 
**He  helps  me  when  he  has  time.  Not  now,  of 
course.  Just  now  I  write  his  letters  for  him 
in  the  evenings. ' ' 

**You  write  a  beautiful  hand,"  I  said. 

'^Yes,  but  I  am  too  slow.  I  want  to  learn 
shorthand.  I  wish  I  had  done  that  at  school. 
Mother  saved  the  money  to  send  me  to  the  High 
School.  Just  think  of  that — out  of  twelve  shil- 
lings a  week,  and  what  she  made  herself! 
They  taught  me  all  sorts  of  things  there — al- 
gebra and  history  and  literature.  Shorthand 
would  have  been  more  useful  to  me  now." 

*^I  am  sure  you  won't  be  sorry  for  what  you 
learned  there,"  I  said. 

**No,  no.  It  has  helped  me.  But — "  She 
sighed. 

Obviously  the  poor  girl  was  not  happy,  nor 
was  it  easy  to  see  how  she  could  have  been. 
If  there  had  been  passion  at  work,  if  she  had 
been  in  love  with  him,  there  would  have  been 
something.    But  it  did  not  seem  to  me  that  she 


56  MAINWAEINQ 

was  at  all  in  love  with  Mainwaring.  He  was, 
or  had  been,  in  love  with  her.  Anyhow,  he  had 
wanted  her — and  that,  with  such  a  man,  means 
passion.  Now  try  to  strike  a  balance.  If 
Mainwaring  had  had  passion,  he  had  known  ec- 
stasy. If  she  had  had  none,  what  had  she 
gained  f  Not  happiness,  which  maybe  she  was 
not  prepared  for;  but  not  com.fort  either. 
Comfort  is  what  her  people  revel  in.  They  ap- 
preciate it  deeply.  It  means,  in  a  word,  secur- 
ity and  a  little  over.  AVork  within  and  to  the 
limit  of  their  powers;  kindness,  regularity;  a 
steady  supply  of  children  and  wherewithal  to 
nourish  them.  I  don't  suppose  Lizzy  Mathews 
in  her  dreams  found  anything  more  in  life.  It 
is  the  utmost  dream  of  a  nesting  bird.  Well, 
her  grief,  as  I  seemed  to  read  her,  was  that  she 
had  no  comfort,  because  no  srecurity.  She  was 
to  work  at  what  she  did  not.  understand ;  she  had 
no  prospect  of  either  home  or  means.  Here  she 
was,  with  a  baby  on  the  way,  and  nothing  to 
feed  it  upon. 

For  Mainwaring,  she  gave  me  to  understand, 
had  had  no  money  when  he  married  her,  except 
the  few  guineas  he  earned  by  journalism,  and 
none  now  but  what  the  miners  allowed  him. 
Strike-pay,  in  fact!    His   future  might  be   a 


THE  STRIKE  AT  CULGAITH        57 

glorious  one.  But  she  didn't  want  glory. 
She  wanted  a  home. 

I  tried  to  encourage  her.  **0h,  but,''  I  said, 
*4f  your  husband  sees  this  strike  through,  he's 
a  made  man.  He  will  be  elected  Member  of 
Parliament,  and  the  Union  will  give  him  a 
salary. ' ' 

She  admitted  it.  **Yes,  I  know  that.  They 
have  told  him  that  already.  But  it  will  be  very 
strange  to  me.  I  don't  know  how  I  am  to  face 
all  the  people  he  will  have  to  do  with — grand 
ladies  and — lords  and  such-like.  There's  a 
lady  in  London  now  who  writes  to  him  every 
week.  She  says  that  she  wants  to  see  me;  but 
I  can't  believe  it." 

^*I  think  I  know  that  lady,"  I  said,  ^^f  it 
is  Lady  Whitehaven,  I  am  certain  that  she  is 
telling  the  truth."  But  Elizabeth  looked  in- 
credulous. 

^*My  husband  writes  to  her,  I  know,  and  she 
answers  him.  There's  no  reason  why  she 
should  want  to  see  me.  He  has  told  her  what 
I  was — I  gave  him  no  peace  until  he  did." 

**You  were  perfectly  right,"  I  said.  *^I 
don't  doubt  that  Lady  Whitehaven  would  like 
to  know  you,  on  that  ground  as  much  as  any 
other.    Don't  imagine  for  a  moment  that  she 


58  MAINWAEINa 

gives  herself  airs.  I  assure  you  that  she  is  a 
very  honest  person,  with  friends  all  over  the 
world,  and  in  every  walk  in  life.  She  admires 
your  husband's  talents,  and  befriended  him 
when  he  came  out  of  prison  because  she  knew 
that  he  suffered  in  a  good  cause.  If  you  will 
let  me  give  you  some  advice,  you  will  get  to 
know  Lady  Whitehaven.  She  is  a  good  soul — 
and,  remember,  it  is  very  difficult  for  her  sort  to 
get  in  touch  with  you  and  me. ' ' 

She  said  nothing,  but  pressed  her  lips  to- 
gether and  looked  far  through  the  open  door 
to  the  hazy  hillside.  I  don't  for  a  moment  think 
she  was  jealous  of  Lady  Whitehaven.  I  don't 
think  she  resented  Main  waring 's  letter-writing 
— which  she  evidently  knew  had  drawn  the 
lady's  letters  in  reply.  What  I  do  rather  think 
is  that  she  felt  Mainwaring  and  such  people  to 
be  birds  of  a  feather,  and  distrusted  her  own 
quieter  plumage.  As  I  had  foreseen,  however. 
Lady  Whitehaven  was  much  too  intelligent,  and 
much  too  generous,  to  be  mistaken  in  Lizzy 
Mainwaring.  They  did  become  friends,  and 
shared  confidences  which  would  have  discon- 
certed anybody  but  Mainwaring  himself.  They 
might  have  made  the  Grand  Turk  blush.  But 
that  comes  later. 


THE  STKIKE  AT  CULGAITH        59 

She  gave  me  tea  at  five  o'clock,  and  I  stayed 
with  her  till  my  last  train  went.  Through  her 
broken  utterances,  her  sighs,  her  hopeless 
searching  of  the  sky  I  conceived  a  pity  for  her 
almost  amounting  to  horror.  I  have  seen  a 
thrush  in  winter,  frozen  tame,  crouched  against 
the  wall,  waiting  bright-eyed  for  death.  So  she 
seemed  to  me.  She  never  alluded  to  herself,  ex- 
cept once  when  she  said  that  she  had  thought 
of  going  out  to  work  again.  She  added  to  that, 
**But  it's  rather  difficult  just  now."  She  fell 
into  long  silences  towards  the  end  of  my  stay, 
and  in  spite  of  all  I  could  do  was  despondent 
and  near  to  tears.  I  thought  of  her,  as  Main- 
waring  had  seen  her  first,  in  her  beauty  and 
strength,  rejoicing  in  her  work,  innocent,  with- 
out a  care  in  the  world.  I  thought  that  to  take 
a  fair  young  creature  like  that,  and  give  her 
children,  surround  her  with  comfort  and  happi- 
ness, was  a  career  for  a  man.  I  thought  that 
I  might  have  been  the  man.  I  was  romantic  in 
those  days — and  I  become  so  again  as  I  remem- 
ber them. 

I  don't  think  I  was  in  love  with  her,  but  I 
know  that  I  was  deeply  interested.  Perhaps 
she  knew  it,  and  was  grateful  to  me.  She  didn  't 
want  me  to  go. 


60  MAINWAEINQ 

**He  won^t  be  in  till  eight,''  she  said,  **aiid 
then  there  will  be  all  these  letters,  after  he  has 
had  his  supper.     He  hasn't  opened  them  yet." 

I  thought  that  we  could  open  them,  and  save 
him  time  by  sorting  then  out,  but,  oh,  no,  that 
wouldn't  do  at  all.     *'I  never  open  his  letters.'* 

When  it  was  absolutely  time  for  me  to  go 
she  grew  so  pensive  that  I  felt  a  great  longing 
to  help  her.  *^How  shall  I  know  how  things 
are  going  with  you?  I  shall  want  to  hear  that 
you  are  well,  and  happier  than  you  are  now." 

She  looked  at  me.  *' Shall  you  really?  I 
will  write,  then,  if  I  may. " 

''Please  write  to  me."  I  wrote  down  my  ad- 
dress. I  hoped  that  she  would  let  me  call  when 
she  was  in  London.  ''I  shall  see  you  a  member 
of  Parliament's  lady  before  very  long." 

''I  shall  never  be  that,"  she  said,  ''though 
I  am  his  wife." 

"You  will  disappoint  your  mother,  and  your 
husband  too.  You  would  not  fail  your  hus- 
band?" 

She  answered  with  dry  heat.  ' '  He  knew  what 
I  was.  He  saw  me  scrubbing  the  doorstep. 
"Why  didn't  he  think?  He  is  very  clever.  I 
could  work  to  the  bone  for  him — but  I  can't  do 
what  he  wants  me  to  do.    I  would  work  for  the 


THE  STKIKE  AT  CULGAITH        61 

poor,  as  I  do.  I  know  what  it  is  to  be  poor,  and 
I  know  that  the  poor  must  help  each  other — 
So  we  do.  But  he  wants  something  which  I 
can't  give  him." 

She  gave  me  her  hand,  and  stood  in  the  door- 
way looking  after  me.  I  turned  at  the  comer 
of  the  terrace,  and  saw  her  there  yet.  Pale 
face,  rueful  figure,  sad  eyes.  I  took  off  my  hat, 
she  lifted  her  hand.  I  hope  she  knew  me  for  a 
friend. 

I  have  said  that  I  was  not  in  love  with  her, 
but  I  am  not  so  sure.  I  was  a  romantic  youth, 
all  the  more  so  for  being  a  shy  one.  Shyness 
drives  the  passion  inwards  and  hardens,  while 
it  deepens,  the  root  of  it.  But  if  I  was  in  love 
with  her,  it  was  not  by  any  means  by  reason  of 
her  beauty,  nor  altogether  because  I  pitied  her, 
nor,  again,  by  admiration  of  the  patient  dignity 
with  which  she  bore  her  misfortunes.  It  was 
the  sharp  isolation  in  which  she  was  placed 
fixed  my  attention  first  upon  her.  It  was  her 
whole  allure :  she  was  beautiful ;  she  was  unfor- 
tunate; she  was  out  of  my  world  altogether. 
Yet  she  was  intensely  a  woman,  and  made  me 
feel  intensely  a  man.  She  was,  in  fact,  an  ele- 
mental— and  before  her  mere  humanity  the 
trappings  of  my  caste  fell  from  me.    I  stood, 


62  MAINWAEING 

man,  before  her,  man's  mate,  in  the  primeval 
wild. 

Lizzy  made  no  compromise  with  life :  she  was 
woman  through  and  through,  nesting  woman. 
I  think  that  nothing  entered  into  her  view  of  the 
scheme  of  things,  but  to  work  and  to  have 
children.  I  was  to  know  that  she  could  love, 
but  not  yet.  One  other  thing  she  knew,  one 
other  law  of  being.  Duty.  Whether  she  had 
religion  or  not,  I  am  not  clear.  She  used  to  go 
to  church;  it  soothed  her  and  in  a  way  helped 
her  in  her  dreary  life.  She  said  her  prayers, 
she  read  her  Bible,  she  respected  the  clergy  as 
a  class  apart.  But  duty  to  her  was  a  way  of 
life.  She  could  not  transgress  by  a  hair's- 
breadth.  Not  only  so,  but  the  language  of 
transgression,  however  qualified,  would  be  im- 
possible to  her.  She  had  been  given  to  Main- 
waring  in  church.  Why?  Because  he  had 
asked  for  her.  Well,  then,  she  belonged  to 
Mainwaring.  As  long  as  he  lived  she  was  at 
his  call.  She  could  not,  perhaps,  be  happy  with 
him ;  she  could  not,  certainly,  be  happy  without 
him,  so  long  as  he  was  there.  She  had  married 
him  without  love — that  couldn  't  be  helped.  She 
must  do  without  love.  All  that  I  saw;  and 
though  I  did  not  understand  it  I  could  not  but 


THE  STRIKE  AT  CULGAITH        63 

admire  the  manifestation  of  it,  so  deeply  felt, 
so  bravely  faced  by  the  fine  creature. 

Mainwaring  was  booming  tragi-heroics  in  the 
Square  as  I  went  down  to  the  station  through 
the  hot  dusk. 


THE   PETITION   AND   THE   EETURN 

MAINWAEING,  who  brought  a  school- 
boy zest  for  preposterous  joking  into 
everything  he  did,  enjoyed  himself  hugely  over 
the  Culgaith  petition.  It  had  been  preparing 
when  I  had  been  up  there  in  the  summer,  was 
ready  by  the  beginning  of  August,  and  was  pre- 
sented before  the  House  rose.  He  had  been 
promised  that  it  should  be  the  biggest  thing 
of  the  kind  ever  got  into  St.  Stephen's,  and  I 
daresay  it  was.  Allenby  told  me  all  the  news 
from  day  to  day:  you  know  how  scandal  and 
gossip,  those  two  chinning  hags,  pile  up  detail. 
It  was  brought  up  to  them  in  a  milk-van,  met 
at  King's  Cross  by  deputations  of  dockers,  rail- 
waymen,  gas-fitters,  boilermakers,  and  riveters, 
and  escorted  across  London  with  banners,  con- 
veyed itself  in  a  wagon  and  six  dray  horses. 
Mainwaring  and  six  of  the  strikers  came  with  it. 
Bill  Birks,  Moresby,  Coward  and  some  others 
of  their  kidney  met  them  in  Palace  Yard  and 
took  the  convoy  into  the  lobby;  vast  crowds 


64 


THE  PETITION  AND  THE  RETURN     65 

guarded    the    mountainous    cylinder    outside. 
Heaven  was  with  them,  for  one  of  the  Culgaith 
men   fainted   in   the   lobby,   and   fell   heavily. 
Sheer  hunger,  not  a  doubt  of  it.     Birks  made 
the  most  of  that  for  the  benfit  of  the  Commons, 
and  did  it  so  well  that  sympathy  resulted  in- 
stead of  exasperation.     The  petition  was   re- 
ceived, and  for  a  good  half-hour  the  House  was 
like  a  National  School  yard  at  eleven  o'clock 
in     the     morning.     Good-humour,     tolerance, 
brotherly  love  prevailed.    All  to  the  good.    At 
night  there  was  a  dinner  at  the  Freemasons^ 
Tavern ;  the  whole  of  the  Radical  party  there ; 
a  speech  from  Mainwaring  which  Allenby  told 
me  was  massive  and  concrete,  but  made  into 
kind  of  puddingstone  by  jokes  and  epigrams. 
Six  hundred  pounds  was  collected  in  the  room 
for  Culgaith.     Mainwaring  and  his  men  had  a 
great  send-off  in  the  morning.     Personally,  I 
saw  next  to  nothing  of  him,  for  I  don't  like  be- 
ing cut  by  exalted  demagogues  and  I  knew  what 
kind  of  a  state  of  mind  had  possession  of  Main- 
waring at  such  a  crisis.    But  I  sought  out  his 
route  to  King's  Cross  on  the  morning  of  his 
return,  and  had  a  glimpse  of  him  standing  up  in 
an  open  barouche,  his  hat  in  his  hand,  his  white 
face  fixed  to  a  plastered  grin ;  only  his  sunken 


66  MAINWAEINa 

eyes  alive.  I  have  seen  dervishes  escorted  into 
Oriental  towns,  so  transfigured  by  starvation 
and  mania — Mainwaring  was  just  like  any  one 
of  them.  The  pity  of  it  was,  to  me,  that  the 
whole  thing  w^as  a  bit  of  self-seeking  of  his  own. 

As  everybody  will  remember  who  is  as  old 
as  I  am,  something  was  done  for  Culgaith. 
Pressure  was  brought  to  bear  upon  the  owners, 
who  gave  way.  Mainwaring  was  a  great  man 
all  over  the  North,  and  a  marked  man,  to  say 
the  least  of  it,  in  the  South.  At  the  General 
Election  fifteen  months  later,  he  was  returned 
unopposed  for  the  division  in  which  Skilaw 
stands  and  swinks.  I  saw  very  little  of  him,  as 
he  remained  in  the  North,  but  I  heard  that  his 
child  was  born  dead  in  the  November  following 
his  London  excursion,  and  wrote  to  his  wife  to 
say  how  much  I  felt  for  her —  or  rather,  to  con- 
ceal how  much  I  felt  for  her.  She  didn't  an- 
swer. 

I  admired  her  so  much  for  what  she  was  that 
I  should  have  been  sorry,  I  believed,  if  she  had 
answered.  Letters  of  that  sort,  amiable  noth- 
ings-at-all,  were  plainly  not  within  the  scope  of 
her  being.  But  I  wanted  to  be  in  touch  with 
her  somehow,  even  through  Mainwaring  if  there 


THE  PETITION  AND  THE  EETUEN     67 

were  no  other  way;  so  said  the  only  thing  I 
could,  short  of  going  up  to  the  North  (which  I 
feared  might  affront  her),  and  made  the  best 
of  my  slight  acquaintance  with  the  White- 
havens.  I  visited  that  random  house  of  pleas- 
ure and  ease — where  the  master  of  the  house 
never  was  and  where  the  mistress  of  it  was 
never  alone — and  got  a  snatch  or  two  of  news. 

The  lady  was  in  the  flutter  of  a  full-fledged 
love-affair.  I  heard  a  great  deal  more  of 
Gerald  Gorges  than  of  Mainwaring,  but  the  two 
were  intertwined — so  I  got  something.  She 
was  curious  about  his  wife,  had  heard  that  she 
was — ^  ^  not  quite ' ' ;  perhaps  I  knew  her  1  I  said 
that  I  did,  and  that  I  thought  her  the  most  beau- 
tiful young  woman  in  the  world.  Lady  White- 
haven immediately  warmed  to  her.  ^^How  de- 
lightful !  I  must  get  her  here.  I  '11  tell  Eichard 
to  bring  her.*'  ■ 

Eichard ! 

I  said,  ^*  Eichard  would  do  it.  He  admires 
her  himself;  he's  proud  of  her.  But  she  won't 
come,  you'll  see."  Lady  Whitehaven  put  her 
pretty  head  on  one  side,  and  looked  like  a  wilting 
rose. 

**I  see,  I  see.  That  will  be  very  troublesome 
of  her.    I  do  so  love  having  beautiful  people 


68  MAINWARING 

about  me.  Couldn't  you  persuade  her?  Tell 
her  that  I'm  quite  kind,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing." 

^^You  could  persuade  her  better  than  I 
could,"  I  told  her.  ^^I  suppose  Mainwaring 
will  get  in — then  he'll  have  to  come  to  London." 

*^0h,"  she  said,  ''of  course  he'll  come  to 
London.     Lie  has  promised." 

''lie  would,"  I  said.  "If  he  brings  his 
wife  with  him,  perhaps  you'll  call  on  her." 

She  said  that  she  certainly  would,  and  wanted 
to  know  more  about  her.  I  didn't  feel  at  liberty 
to  oblige  her  to  that  extent,  but  did  give  her  to 
understand  that  Mainwaring  had  fallen  wildly 
in  love,  and  had  carried  Lizzy  off  her  feet. 
That  her  ladyship  had  no  difficulty  about. 
"He's  so  impulsive,  isn't  he?  He  can't  bear 
to  be  denied  anything.  And  quite  irresistible 
when  he  has  really  made  up  his  mind."  She 
pinched  her  lower  lip  with  her  thumb  and  finger. 
"It  will  be  rather  difficult — but  I  shall  be  so 
sorry  for  her  that  I  believe  I  shall  succeed. 
You  know  I  am  rather  used  to  having  my  own 
way,  too." 

I  said  that  I  was  sure  of  it,  but  added  some- 
thing about  stone  walls  and  injury  to  the  toes. 
Lady   AVhitehaven    gently   sighed    and   looked 


THE  PETITION  AND  THE  RETURN     69 

about  to  see  of  Gerald  Gorges  had  come  m.  He 
had.  I  saw  him  in  the  distance,  a  good  head 
above  any  one  else,  looking  like  a  very  handsome 
and  sulky  giraffe.  Then  she  saw  him  also,  and 
a  lovely  blush  flooded  her  as  her  eyes  fell  before 
his — one  of  the  prettiest  things  I  ever  saw — and 
she  a  mother  of  four  children,  the  eldest  nearly 
out  of  the  schoolroom.  She  recovered  in  a 
moment  and  got  rid  of  me  charmingly.  Soon 
after  that  I  saw  them  together,  the  world  for- 
getting, but  not  by  the  world  forgot — for  the 
world  was  by  this  time  openly  aware  of  what 
was  going  on,  and  as  pleased  about  it  as  a 
child  with  a  new  toy.  Such  w^as,  in  the  begin- 
ning, is  now,  and  ever  shall  be,  that  particular 
world. 

Gerald  Gorges'  return  to  London  synchro- 
nized within  a  few  months  with  Mainwaring's 
return  to  Parliament,  which  was  unfortunate 
in  one  way,  because  it  brought  to  a  head  matters 
which  weren't  ready  for  that  violent  solution. 
The  lady  wanted  Mainwaring  to  impend,  but 
here  he  was  on  Gerald  Gorges'  toes  like  a  ton 
of  bricks.  She  wanted  the  young  man  to  be 
uneasy;  but  he  was  disgusted.  He  knew  only 
too  well  what  was  due  to  himself;  he  was  so 


70  MAINWARING 

clear  about  that  as  to  allow  it  wholly  to  obscure 
what  he  owed  to  her.  So  he  obstinately  and 
obdurately  ignored  Mainwaring's  scowls  and 
hands  deeply  thrust  in  his  breeches'  pockets, 
and  made  it  difficult  for  Lady  Whitehaven  to 
have  them  both  in  the  room  together.  To  save 
herself  she  handed  him  over  to  her  sister  Leven, 
who  made  much  of  him  after  her  manner  and 
kept  open  house  for  him.  Mainwaring  accepted 
her  as  a  gift,  but  did  not  on  her  account  cease 
to  besiege  the  lady  of  his  heart. 

The  very  first  time  I  met  him  was  in  Caven- 
dish Square;  and  the  first  thing  he  said  to  me 
was — ^^We  are  in  lodgings  in  Chelsea.  Lizzy 
is  moping  like  a  sick  hen.  I  hope  you  '11  go  and 
see  her." 

I  said,  ^*  Certainly  I  shall.  But  you  have  no 
business  to  let  her  mope."  He  stared  at  me 
as  if  I  was  suddenly  a  fool,  then  cleared  his 
face  of  scorn  and  said,  **She  won't  come  here. 
You  may  make  her,  the  Lady  may  make  her — 
but  I  can't.     And  I  think  she's  quite  right." 

So  did  I,  and  I  said  so.  The  question,  how- 
ever, had  been,  "Was  he  quite  right?  That  he 
thought  fit  to  pass  over.  He  gave  me  the  ad- 
dress— Tedworth  Square — and  dropped  me  and 
the  subject.    No — he  spoke  of  himself,  I  re- 


THE  PETITION  AND  THE  EETURN  71 

member.  He  had  taken  his  seat  and  was  medi- 
tating a  maiden  speech.  The  lady  was  going 
to  hear  him,  and  would  take  Lizzy,  if  Lizzy 
would  go.  He  strongly  tho-^'^ht  that  she 
wouldn  't. 

It  was  a  sunny  afternoon  in  June  when  I 
went  to  see  her.  Exactly  a  year  since  Culgaith. 
She  was  out,  but  I  waited,  and  presently  she 
came  in.  She  had  been  buying  flowers.  She 
had  a  broad-brimmed  black  straw  hat,  a  plain 
black  cotton  frock,  and  looked  divine.  Her 
dark  skin  flushed  with  pleasure,  her  green  eyes 
shone.  There  was  no  doubt  she  was  glad  to 
see  me,  though  of  course  she  didn't  say  so.  I 
had  brought  her  some  roses,  and  was  rewarded 
by  seeing  her  handle  them.  She  chose  one  for 
her  gown,  and  put  the  others  in  water — silently, 
very  intent  upon  the  matter,  and  I  think  with 
no  thought  that  I  was  watching  her.  I  didn't 
want  her  to  talk — there  was  plenty  of  time  for 
that;  but  I  did  want  to  look  at  her. 

•She  fetched  me  tea  herself,  and  the  landlady 
came  back  with  some  of  the  refreshment,  a 
sharp-faced  but  pleasant  London  woman,  who 
said  at  once  how  nice  it  was  to  have  a  little 
company.     **We  don't  see  much  of  Mr.  Main- 


72  MAINWARING 

waring,  do  we?"  she  said  to  Lizzy,  I  thought 
rather  provocatively;  but  it  didn't  draw  any 
answer. 

Over  the  tea-cups  the  poor  girl  was  moved 
to  talk  to  me  of  her  loss.  ^'1  wanted  Mother 
very  badly,''  she  said,  **but  some  of  the  people 
up  there  were  as  kind  as  could  be.  I  felt  leav- 
ing it  up  there.  It  was  a  horrible  place."  She 
added,  with  a  little  gasp  of  sorrow,  ^^And  I 
wasn't  the  only  one  to  lose  my  baby  in  Skilaw." 

One  knew  all  about  that,  and  rather  dreaded 
the  reflection  that  Main  waring 's  responsibility 
was  heavy.  I  suspected  that  she  quite  realized 
that,  and  got  her  off  the  rueful  subject  as  soon 
as  I  could.  I  wanted  to  know  now  what  she 
proposed  to  do  with  herself  in  London;  she 
couldn't  tell  me. 

^^He  wants  you  to  go  about  with  him,  no 
doubt, ' '  I  said.  She  busied  herself  with  her  tea- 
spoon. 

*^I  don't  know  that  he  does,"  she  said  pres- 
ently, ^'but  I  have  told  him  that  I  won't  go  to 
his  great  houses,  if  they  ask  me»"  Then  she 
looked  straight  at  me.  **I  expect  you  think  I 
am  wrong." 

I  said,  ^^No,  no,  I  think  you  are  right — until 
you  are  quite  sure  how  you  will  be  received. 


THE  PETITION  AND  THE  RETUEN     73 

But  there  are  people  among  them,  you  know, 
who  couldn't  go  wrong  in  that  kind  of  thing  if 
they  tried.  His  Lady  Whitehaven  is  one — the 
kindest  woman  in  London.'' 

Lizzy's  fine  nostrils  dilated.  **I  daresay  she 
is  kind  enough." 

*  *  She  will  call  on  you  pretty  soon,  you  '11  find, ' ' 
I  told  her. 

^*I  can't  prevent  that,"  Lizzy  said,  ^'and 
why  should  I?  But  she  won't  get  me  to  her 
house.  There  is  no  reason  in  it.  I  told  Mr, 
Mainwaring  so." 

**I  am  sure  it  would  please  him  if  you  could 
make  a  friend  of  her,"  I  said. 

She  answered  me  coldly,  looking  carefully 
away  from  me.  **He  thinks  a  great  deal  of 
Lady  Whitehaven — and  she  likes  it.  She  is 
kind-hearted,  and  doesn't  want  me  to  think 
there's  anything  in  it." 

**Nor  is  there,"  I  said — sinning  against  the 
light. 

She  laughed:  not  happily.  ^'Oh,  I'm  not 
jealous.  He  might  go  and  see  her  every  day. 
Perhaps  he  does.  But  I  don't  care  to  help 
them,  exactly." 

Then  I  tried  to  put  it  another  way.  ^*No, 
you  don 't  care  to  help  an  idle  flirtation — but  you 


74  MAINWAEINa 

do  care  to  help  your  husband.    Lady  White- 
haven can  be  very  useful  to  him.'* 

She  wouldn't  have  that;  she  was  much  too 
candid.  ^^No/'  she  said,  *'he  didn't  go  into 
Parliament  to  help  her  party.  He  went  in  to 
help  the  poor  people.  Only  the  poor  can  help 
the  poor — I'm  sure  of  it.  He  went  in  as  a 
working-man,  though  he  has  never  been  one. 
She  will  put  him  in  the  wrong — or  he  will  put 
himself  there.    You'll  see." 

'^Well,  then,"  I  said,  ^^et's  face  it.  You 
won't  know  his  friends,  and  have  none  of  your 
own.    What  will  you  do?" 

She  seemed  to  have  made  up  her  mind.  **I 
shall  get  some  work  presently,  through  a  clergy- 
man or  some  one.  Besides,  I  do  a  great  deal 
for  Mr.  Main  waring.  We  can't  afford  a  secre- 
tary. I  shall  learn  typewriting  and  shorthand, 
if  I  can  manage  them.     I  expect  I  can." 

I  didn  't  think  I  had  been  getting  on  with  her. 
It  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  was  pumping  her,  and 
that  she  unwillingly  replied ;  but  then  I  was  very 
much  flattered.  She  began  to  talk  about  affairs, 
and  I  saw  that  I  had  gained  her  confidence. 
Nothing  ever  made  me  happier  than  that. 
]\iainwaring  had  £150  a  year  allowed  him  by  the 


THE  PETITION  AND  THE  EETURN     75 

Executive  of  the  constituency;  he  made  per- 
haps another  £150  by  journalism.  It  could  have 
been  much  more,  but  he  would  not  give  the  time 
to  it.  Meantime  he  spent  nearly  twice  that, 
was  in  debt  and  had  no  prospect  of  getting  out 
of  it.  She  was  awfully  worried.  In  the  middle 
of  all  this  Mainwaring  came  in,  and  fixed  us  with 
his  glazed,  cavernous  eyes. 

But  he  was  glad  to  see  me,  and  very  nearly 
said  so.  He  walked  over  to  Lizzy  where  she 
sat,  still  before  the  tea-tray,  and  put  his  hand 
on  her  shoulder.  **My  poor  girl,  this  is  good 
seeing.  So  he  has  been  amusing  you?  Now, 
I'U  not  be  interrupting  you.  I  am  only  on  a 
flying  visit.'' 

She  sat  under  his  caressing  hand,  looking 
down  at  her  own  which  were  idle,  twisting  to- 
gether in  her  lap.  I  asked  him  if  the  House 
was  up ;  he  said,  No ;  but  he  had  come  home  to 
change.  ''I'm  dining  out,  to  tell  you  the 
truth,"  he  said.  ''I'll  ask  my  girl  to  get  my 
things  out,  and  some  hot  water,  and  then  I  must 
get  back." 

She  rose  at  once,  and  his  arm  slipped  to  her 
waist,  and  held  her.  "She  won't  come  with 
me    by    any    persuasion    of    mine,"    he    said. 


76  MAINWAEING 

^'Perhaps  you  will  have  better  luck.  Not  but 
what  she'd  have  a  dull  time  with  the  peacocks 
and  popinjays  I  have  to  meet.'' 

**We  can  imagine  you  pranking  mth  the  best 
of  them,''  I  said.  He  heard  me,  but  took  no 
notice.  His  looks  were  bent  to  his  wife's 
averted  cheek. 

*^Eun,  my  darling,  and  get  my  things  for  me. 
I  mustn't  wait." 

She  went  away  at  once,  and  he  prepared  to 
follow  her.     At  the  door  he  turned  to  me. 

**  You  see,  I  am  learning  my  weights  and  mea- 
sures. I  know  more  than  I  did  yesterday — and 
so  it  goes  on.  I'm  creeping  up — and  soon  I 
shall  shoot  ahead." 

^^It's  dull  for  your  wife,"  I  said. 

He  wagged  his  head.  *^You  know  what  she 
was.  A  home-keeping  bird.  'Tis  the  nest, 
the  nest,  with  her  nation." 

*^Get  her  a  nest  then,  confound  you,"  was 
in  my  head — but  he  had  gone. 

I  thought  that  I  had  better  go  too,  but  waited 
to  say  good-bye  to  Lizzy.  She  came  down  after 
a  short  interval  and  stood  by  me,  listening 
while  I  talked.  My  poor  proposals  for  her  en- 
tertainment hereafter  met  with  little  encourage- 
ment.   It  was  clear  to  me  that  her  only  chance 


THE  PETITION  AND  THE  EETURN     77 

was  to  have  another  baby  and  a  house  of  her 
own.  She  was — Mainwaring  was  perfectly 
right — a  nesting  bird.  Thousands  of  years  had 
gone  to  the  producing  of  her.  I  praise  God 
that  it  is  so.  So  my  proffer  of  a  married  sis- 
ter, a  perfectly  good  sort,  of  a  parson ^s  wife 
in  Chelsea,  an  old  friend  of  ours,  and  the  like, 
fell  rather  flat.  I  didn't  venture  to  propose 
taking  her  out  much.  She  would  have  come; 
but  people  would  have  talked;  and  when  she 
knew  that  she  wouldn't  like  it.  So  my  conver- 
sation was  futile — yet  I  didn't  want  to  go,  and 
she  didn't  want  me  to.  We  fell  to  silences, 
chance  sentences  not  needing  an  answer,  mak- 
ing of  talk,  seeing  the  pretence,  but  each  glad 
that  the  other  saw  it.  I  was  in  love  with  her; 
probably  she  suspected  it.  It  may  have  soothed 
her  innocent  vanity — I  don't  know. 

Then  Mainwaring  came  blundering  down- 
stairs— he  was  much  too  tall  for  the  stairs,  and 
a  ridiculous  thing  happened.  He  got  into  the 
room,  looking  (for  him)  remarkably  combed 
and  harmonious,  and  was  preparing  to  be  off 
when  he  found  he  had  forgotten  his  handker- 
chief. Bolting  out  of  the  room,  he  slammed  the 
door  after  him.  We  heard  a  struggle,  a  tear- 
ing, a  rending,  a  prodigious  crack — then  silence. 


78  MAINWAEING 

Presently  tie  came  in  again,  a  coat-tail  in  his 
hand.  **That  was  a  relief/'  he  said.  ^* Some- 
thing was  bound  to  go,  and  it  couldn't  have  been 
me." 

**It  might  have  been  the  door,"  I  said,  but 
he  had  turned  to  his  wife. 

"My  darling,"  he  said,  "just  fetch  a  couple 
of  black  safety-pins.  We'll  soon  have  this  put 
right." 

Lizzy  looked  her  disapproval.  "No,  no;  I 
must  sew  it." 

He  wouldn't  have  that.  "I  tell  you  I  can't 
wait.  You  must  do  as  I  tell  you.  Otherwise  I 
shall  go  with  one  tail." 

We  knew  very  well  that  he  would  have  done  it. 
So  Lizzy  fetched  the  pins,  and  so  patched  up 
off  he  went  to  the  House  and  to  the  White- 
havens.  He  was  at  a  party  of  the  Duchess's 
later  on  in  the  evening,  and,  I  was  not  surprised 
to  hear,  made  no  secret  of  his  accident.  But 
Lizzy  had  been  scandalized.  The  question  of 
how  far  a  man,  of  genius  or  not,  can  have  a 
beautiful  woman  as  the  slave  of  his  whims,  am- 
bitions, absurdities  or  blunders  need  not  now  be 
discussed.  I  remember  how  hotly  it  blazed 
within  me  that  night.  But  I  had  become  a  par- 
tisan. 


VI 

IN  AND  OUT   OF   THE  HOUSE 

THE  time  and  the  occasion  of  his  maiden, 
speech  having  been  decided  upon,  Main- 
waring  most  characteristically  rushed  into  de- 
bate many  days  before  the  appointed  day,  un- 
prepared, in  a  savage  temper,  and  not  to  be 
restrained.  A  question,  and  then  a  motion  for 
adjournment,  about  flogging  in  the  army  stirred 
his  bile.  In  a  moment  he  was  up,  all  the  length 
of  him  rocking  like  a  tree,  lecturing  the  House 
about  man^s  essential  dignity.  He  quoted 
Pico  della  Mirandola  (of  all  heroes  dead  in  the 
world)  with  great  and  incisive  effect.  Even  in 
print  the  words  can  move  me.  **  Neither  a 
fixed  abode,  nor  a  form  in  thine  own  likeness, 
nor  any  gift  peculiar  to  thyself  alone,  have  we 
given  thee,  0  Adam,  in  order  that  what  abode, 
what  likeness,  what  gifts  thou  shalt  choose,  may 
be  thine  to  have  and  to  possess.  ...  I  have  set 
thee  midmost  the  world,  that  there  thou 
mightest  the  more  conveniently  survey  what- 
soever is  in  the  world  ...  to  the  end  that 

79 


80  MAINWAEING 

thou,  being  thy  own  free  maker  and  moulder, 
shouldst  fashion  thyself  in  what  form  may  like 
thee  best.  Thou  shalt  have  power  to  decline 
into  the  lower  or  brute  creatures.  Thou  shalt 
have  power  to  be  re-born  unto  the  higher,  or 
divine,  according  to  the  sentence  of  thy  intel- 
lect !  Thus  to  Man  at  his  birth  the  Father  gave 
seeds  of  all  variety  and  germs  of  every  form 
of  life.' ^ 

In  the  eighteen-eighties  the  House  had  not 
quite  lost  touch  with  the  glamour  of  the  seven- 
teen-eighties.  Facts  tell  now;  in  those  days 
style  did  much  of  the  business.  The  zest  and 
the  manner  have  gone,  not  to  return.  Burke 
would  be  a  bore  today,  Sheridan  would  be  called 
a  coxcomb.  When  Mainwaring  made  his  first 
speech  his  vehemence  and  apparent  sincerity, 
coupled  with  eloquence  and  the  tinge  of  learning 
imparted  by  a  happily  remembered  quotation, 
had  the  power  to  impose.  The  House  was  ruled 
by  two  great  men  who  both  had  scholarship. 
Hardman  led  the  opposition,  in  which,  of  course, 
Mainwaring  ranked;  Bentivoglio  was  First 
Lord :  Hardman  with  the  angry,  intent  eyes  of 
some  accipitrine  fowl,  sitting  couched  in  his 
place;  Bentivoglio  with  his  sick-smiling  mask, 
weary  and  inexpressive,  over  against  him,  al- 


IN  AND  OUT  OF  THE  HOUSE       81 

ways  ready  for  him,  with  velvet  gloves  over  his 
claws.  Almost  everything  said  or  done  there 
then  was,  as  it  were,  a  prelude  to  a  single  com- 
bat between  those  two.  Now,  on  this  occasion, 
as  I  was  told,  Hardman  was  annoyed  with  his 
henchman.  He  did  not  detect  prelude,  and  did 
smell  rebellion.  Mainwaring  had  arranged 
nothing  with  the  Whips;  he  had  just  plunged 
in,  and  could  hardly  have  been  stopped.  That 
upset  old  Hardman 's  idea  of  party  discipline. 
Therefore  he  took  no  notice  whatever  when 
Mainwaring  bounced  down  as  suddenly  as  he 
had  bounced  up,  and  a  roar  of  applause  fol- 
lowed. That  was  Bentivoglio 's  cue.  He  took 
occasion  to  compliment  the  Honourable  Mem- 
ber upon  a  ^*  speech  of  unpremeditated  elo- 
quence, of  scholarship  in  happy  union  with  pas- 
sion,'* and  did  not  fail  to  say  how  *^ precious*^ 
it  must  have  been  to  the  Eight  Honourable  gen- 
tleman upon  the  other  side.  The  Eight  Hon- 
ourable gentleman  sat  on  like  a  wicked  old 
stone  eagle. 

In  the  opinion  of  good  judges  Mainwaring 
hardly,  in  the  House  of  Commons,  surpassed 
that  outburst — except,  of  course,  once.  Cer- 
tainly I  thought  his  official  maiden-speech 
laboured,   pompous   and   dull.    I   don't   know 


82  MAINWAEING 

what  his  wife  thought  of  it,  but  remember  how 
she  described  the  effect  upon  her  of  that,  her 
only  visit  to  the  House. 

*^They  were  only  playing, ''  she  said,  after 
she  had  been  silent  for  sometime.  ^^I  don't 
care  to  go  there  any  more — but  it  was  very  kind 
of  Lady  Whitehaven  to  take  me.'' 

Lady  Whitehaven  had  called  upon  her  and, 
as  I  had  expected,  Lizzie  couldn't  help  liking 
her.  I  guessed — but  didn't  know  it  certainly 
for  a  long  time — that  the  simpleton  had  read  the 
complicated  lady  like  a  scented  manuscript; 
I  mean  that  the  perfume  did  not  in  the  least 
obscure  the  sense.  ** She's  not  happy — she 
wants  it  both  ways."  That  was  one  of  Lizzy's 
comments.  Another  was,  **I  have  made  up  my 
mind.  I  won't  have  anything  to  do  with  it.  I 
never  will. ' '  She  meant  that  she  would  be  sec- 
retary, drudge,  bondmaid  to  the  man  who  had 
married  her,  but  no  more.  She  would  not  rise 
with  him — if  it  was  rising.  She  did  not  her- 
self, at  any  time,  admit  the  elevation.  *^He 
could  do  good  to  the  poor  in  Parliament,  but 
not  in  that  way,"  was  one  of  her  shots  at  ex- 
planation of  herself.  **Only  the  poor  can  help 
the  poor."  She  had  said  that  before;  it  was 
the  root  of  her  belief.    When  I  said  that  to  cut 


IN  AND  OUT  OF  THE  HOUSE       83 

the  classes  inevitably  apart  was  to  despair  of 
a  happy  nation,  since  there  must  be  rich  and 
not  so  rich,  she  took  me  up.  **Why  must  there 
be?  Christ  didn't  think  so/'  Then  I  saw  that 
she  was  an  idealist  without  knowing  it,  and  was 
ashamed. 

**It  comes  to  this,  then,"  I  said  to  her. 
**Lady  Whitehaven  must  come  to  you  ill  her 
troubles,  for  you  will  never  go  to  her." 

**Yes,"  said  Lizzy;  *^she  must  step  down 
since  I  can 't  step  up. ' ' 

**And  you,  in  your  troubles,  will  never  trouble 
her." 

She  laughed  uneasily,  as  if  to  cover  up  her 
troubles.    ^^No,  I  shan't  go  to  her." 

After  that  I  was  complimented  by  the  fact 
that  she  gave  me  her  confidence  freely;  her 
doubts  and  difficulties  were  increasing.  *^He's 
so  extravagant — you  don't  know.  We  are  in 
debt  to  the  landlady,  and  he  simply  won't  listen 
to  her  when  she  comes  with  her  book."  I  re- 
membered the  waiters  at  Marseilles  and  his  way 
of  roughriding  them.  *^I  got  money  from  my 
mother  to  pay  some  of  it,"  she  went  on,  **out 
of  the  Savings  Bank.    But  it  can't  be  right." 

**It  isn't  right  at  all,"  I  said,  ^'but  it  will 
probably  come   right.    He  is   bound   to   rise. 


B4  MAINWAKINa 

He  can't  help  it,  and  it  is  only  a  question  just 
now  of  hanging  on. ' ' 

To  poor  Lizzy  this  was  not  so  plain.  *^He 
gets  three  pounds  a  week  from  the  Union,  and 
makes  almost  as  much  again  from  the  news- 
papers. But  it  all  melts  away  like  cat-ice.  He 
makes  more  in  a  week  than  we  at  home  could 
have  saved  in  a  year — and  doesn't  pay  his 
biUs." 

^*You  hate  all  thatr' 

^^Oh,  hate  it!"  She  bit  her  lip.  ^^Well,  we 
never  expect  much  out  of  life,  do  we?"  The 
philosophy  of  the  poor!  No  comfort  for 
Lizzy's  nation  in  finding  out  whether  you  hate 
a  thing  or  not.  But  she  tempered  it  to  me  pres- 
ently by  a  very  pathetic  touch.  ^*I  did  expect 
that  my  baby  w^ould  have  been  bom  alive. ' ' 

I  think  the  passion  for  making  people  happy 
was  born  in  me :  an  instinct,  perhaps.  I  felt  at 
this  moment  that  nothing  in  the  world  mattered 
to  me  except  to  make  Lizzy  Mainwaring  happy 
— ^but  what  could  I  do?  Mainwaring  stood  in 
my  Way.  Supposing  I  had  paid  her  bills  for 
her,  it  would  only  have  been  paying  Mainwar- 
ing's  bills — and  to  do  that  would  have  been 
like  pouring  wine  into  the  Thames  at  Lon- 
don Bridge.    As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  already 


IN  AND  OUT  OF  THE  HOUSE       85 

owed  me  some  fifty  pounds  or  so — but  that 
isn't  the  question  really.  A  few  pounds  more 
or  less  would  neither  stop  Mainwaring  nor  help 
Lizzy.  He  was  on  the  make,  so  obviously  on  it 
that  it  seemed  like  combating  a  law  of  nature 
to  try  to  reduce  him  to  the  convenience  of  a 
woman.  If  Lizzy  Mainwaring,  Eose  White- 
haven, a  respectable  landlady,  a  hardworking 
mother-in-law  with  a  stockingful  of  money  in 
Sussex  were  but  grist  for  his  mill,  in  they  must 
go.     So  it  seemed  then. 

The  leopard  had  not  changed  his  spots. 
Mainw^aring  was  exactly  as  I  had  known  him 
five  or  six  year  ago.  Money  to  him  was  noth- 
ing. If  he  had  it  he  got  on  rather  faster,  if 
he  had  it  not,  he  got  on  rather  slower — but  he 
always  got  on.  I  did  not  know  then — I  did 
afterwards — what  he  spent  it  on:  he  didn't  as 
yet  attempt  entertaining,  and  as  for  entertain- 
ing himself,  he  was  perfectly  indifferent  what 
he  ate  or  drank.  He  dressed  simply,  and  ex- 
pected his  wife  to  look  nice.  I  am  sure  that 
between  them  they  didn't  spend  a  hundred  a 
year  on  clothes.  But  he  was  lavish  with  his 
half-crowns;  he  took  a  number  of  cabs;  if  he 
wanted  a  book  he  ordered  it ;  if  he  wanted  to  go 


86  MAINWAEING 

anywhere  lie  went,  and  in  the  first  class.  He  en- 
tertained people,  he  belonged  to  clubs.  Ten 
pounds  a  week  will  go  easily  in  this  way — and 
that's  five  hundred  a  year  on  nothing,  as  you 
may  say.  To  Lizzy,  poor  dear,  this  was 
frightful — she  didn't  stay  to  reflect  that  in 
marrying  a  gentleman  she  had  mated  herself 
to  no  more  than  a  gentleman's  habits.  I  sup- 
pose she  should  be  blamed  for  doing  it — ^but 
when  she  said  that  she  hadn  't  been  able  to  help 
it,  I  myself  can  well  believe  it.  At  this  moment 
of  which  I  am  writing  she  was  no  more  than 
twenty-two,  and  had  had  three  years '  pretty  in- 
tolerable misery.  However,  to  cut  all  that 
short,  I  couldn't  stand  it.  She  was  wearing 
herself  to  fiddle  strings  over  nothing  at  all.  I 
spoke  to  the  landlady,  who  was  quite  reason- 
able about  it,  and  made  myself  more  or  less  re- 
sponsible for  her  book.  Finally  I  spoke  to 
Lizzy  herself,  and  saw  her  eyes  fill.  She  didn't 
trust  herself  to  speak,  and  when  she  did  said 
something  about  not  being  able  to  look  at  me 
again.  *^ Isn't  it  better  to  be  indebted  to  a 
friend  than  to  a  landlady?"  I  asked  her.  Yes, 
she  supposed  so.  *^And  may  I  not  call  myself 
your     friend?"    Then     she     faintly     smiled. 


IN  AND  OUT  OF  THE  HOUSE       87 

'^You  mean  that  I  mayT'  She  nodded.  _^  AVhen 
I  went  away  she  came  to  the  door  with  me. 
''You  are  good.  It  makes  me  happy.  I  shall 
fell  Mr.  Mainwaring.''  *^Do,''  I  said.  **That 
will  make  him  happy  too.''  She  shook  her 
head.  **He  won't  care."  And  of  course  he 
didn't. 

Lizzy  kept  her  word  and  was  never  inside  the 
Whitehavens '  mansion;  nevertheless  the  count- 
ess needed  her,  and  therefore  was  pretty  often 
in  Chelsea.  She  was  able  to  clear  her  own  con- 
science, but  in  one  way  only.  It  became  neces- 
sary for  her  to  tell  Lizzy  the  truth,  that  Main- 
waring  was  no  longer  necessary  to  her  happi- 
ness, but  on  the  contrary  a  decided  impediment 
to  it.  I  know  now  that  she  told  the  whole  state 
of  the  case  about  Gerald  Gorges,  and  that  by 
appealing  frankly  for  pity,  obtained  it.  I  un- 
derstand now,  again,  why  the  Duchess  made 
so  much  of  the  man :  it  was  because  she  detested 
Gerald  Gorges  and  saw  Mainwaring  a  spoke  in 
his  wheel.  But  none  of  this  was  explained  at 
the  time  to  Lizzy  because  poor  Lady  White- 
haven imagined  that  her  sister  saw  the  dema- 
gogue as  admirable  and  interesting  a  figure  as 


88  MAINWARING 

she  herself  saw  him.  And  that  leads  me  to  a 
curious  little  incident  of  which  I  was  accident- 
ally a  witness. 

I  happened  upon  the  two  women  together  one 
afternoon,  entering  unannounced,  as  I  did  some- 
times when  the  maid-servant  was  ashamed  to 
show  herself,  poor  child.  Lady  "Whitehaven 
had  Lizzy's  hand  between  her  own,  and  was 
looking  up  at  her  from  the  stool  on  which  she 
sat,  all  flame-colour  and  ardour.  Lizzy,  her 
junior  by  ten  years,  was  speaking  incisively, 
and  with  a  scorn  which  sadly  discountenanced 
the  lady.  ^  ^  Oh,  him !  He  only  works  for  him- 
self.''  To  one  who  demands  couleur  de  rose  for 
her  daily  bread  that  was  much  too  uncom- 
promising. Lady  Whitehaven  was  true  to 
type.  She  shook  her  head  and  laughed,  as 
she  rose  and  shook  hands  with  me.  ^^Eeally, 
Lizzy,  you  are  too  hard  on  us.  I'm  telling 
her,''  she  said  to  me,  *Hhat  she  ought  to  come 
out  of  her  tub.  She's  too  nice  to  be  Diogenes. 
Do  persuade  her — for  I  must  fly.  I'm  sure  I 
am  late  for  a  dozen  things."  She  kissed  Lizzy 
on  both  cheeks,  nodded  happily  to  me  and  em- 
barked for  Cythera  in  her  victoria. 

I  came  back  to  Lizzy,  who  had  not  moved. 
**No   comfort   there?"    I   asked.     She    stared 


IN  AND  OUT  OF  THE  HOUSE       89 

with  hard  eyes  at  the  carpet.  Then  she  said, 
*^No,  none.  But  she  likes  talking  to  me  about 
her  affairs.  She  has  troubles  of  her  own.'' 
Then  she  stopped — to  break  out  again  in  an- 
other place.  ^^She  is  one  for  men.  Nothing 
else  does  her  any  good.'' 

I  was  rather  shocked,  though  it  was  very  true. 
**You  are  very  hard  on  her." 

*^0h,"  said  Lizzy,  **I  don't  mean  anything 
bad.  But  I  think  she'd  do  wrong  if  there  was 
no  other  way." 

** Kindness  is  really  her  fault,"  I  urged. 
'^She  can't  refuse  the  people  who  seek  her. 
You  don 't  believe  that  she  is  in  love  with  Main- 
waring  I" 

^^No,"  she  said,  ^^I  don't — nor  he  with  her. 
That  makes  it  worse,  I  think."  It  certainly 
did. 

Meantime  Lady  Whitehaven,  really  in  love  at 
last,  and  too  deeply  so  to  know  how  far  she  was 
sunk,  had  thoroughly  alarmed  Lord  Gerald's 
mother,  the  Dowager.  That  keen-eyed  old 
party  immediately  took  steps  to  remove  her 
darling  from  the  lioness.  A  mission  was  ar- 
ranging for  Madrid  to  treat  about  some  ques- 
tion of  Tangier.     That  was  her  chance.    Lord 


90  MAINWAEINa 

J was  appointed  Envoy-Extraordinary,  and 


we  heard  presently  that  Gerald  Gorges  was  to 
go  with  him.  It  was  a  step  towards  eminence, 
and  there  was  nothing  to  be  said.  Lady  White- 
haven pressed  the  thorn  into  her  bosom,  and 
smiled  at  grief.  Her  bright  eyes  betrayed  her; 
it  was  a  humid  glitter.  I  know  that  she  saw 
him  off  at  Victoria — and  then  took  the  Dowager 
home  with  her  to  lunch.  Marvellous  creatures, 
women  are. 


vn 

THE  FKEE   LAKCEB 

I  AM  not  a  politician  myself,  and  have  never 
been  a  member  of  Parliament,  so  that  I  feel 
quite  incompetent  to  say  how  Mainwaring 
gradually  edged  himself  into  the  position  he  oc- 
cupied. 

Bill  Birks,  M.P.,  a  thoroughly  good  fellow, 
though  rather  comic  in  his  admiration  of  him- 
self, confessed  that  he  didn^t  understand  it. 
*^What  the  House  Avants  from  us  chaps  is  the 
facts,"  he  said.  *'It  don't  look  to  us  for  flow- 
ery speech.  Now  Mainwaring,  without  being 
flowery,  is  what  I  call  a  literary  feller.  His 
sentences  have  middles  and  endings.  And  they 
have  sense  in  them,  though  he  can  wrap  it  up 
like  Hardman.  But  he  scolds  the  House — and 
they  stand  it.  He  plays  the  fool — and  they 
laugh.  He  never  laughs  himself.  And  he  is 
seldom  too  long.  That's  a  great  thing.  You 
mustn't  be  long,  and  you  must  have  something 
to  say.  Besides,  they  know,  bless  you,  that  he's 
got  all  Durham  behind  him.    Look  what  he  did 

91 


92  MAINWARING 

at  Culgaith.  Look  what  he  did  with  that  crowd 
on  the  Embankment.  The  House  knows  that 
Main  waring 's  a  dangerous  card.  We  aren't 
afraid  of  him — that's  not  our  way.  But  we 
know  he  can  do  what  he  says.'' 

From  the  first,  I  understand,  he  sat  aloof 
from  either  party,  and  from  the  first  had  very 
few  political  friends.  He  had  enemies,  of  his 
own  choice,  in  abundance.  Mr.  Bentivoglio  was 
the  first  of  them — the  Hamburg  rat,  as  he  called 
him.  Being  an  Irishman,  you  might  have 
thought  that  he  would  incline  to  their  party — 
but  bless  you,  not  he.  *^ Dirty  scoundrels,"  he 
called  them,  and  didn't  care  if  they  knew  it. 
He  was  of  Ulster,  and  was  an  Orange  protestant 
— when  it  suited  him;  yet  he  was  not  against 
Home  Rule.  ^  *If  they  can  get  it  they  are  worth 
it;  leave  it  so" — was  a  saying  of  his.  But 
Home  Rule  was  a  long  way  off  in  those  days, 
and  I  am  not  sure,  when  it  came  to  the  point, 
whether  he  would  have  voted  for  it  or  not. 

It  was  odd  that  a  man  who  made  his  name  by 
mob-leading  outside  should  have  made  one  in 
the  House.  He  started  with  a  strong  prejudice 
against  him — that's  certain.  He  was  thought 
to  be  a  quack — as  he  undoubtedly  was.  There 
were    some    who    detected    his    method    from 


THE  FREE  LANCER  93 

the  beginning :  Lord  Whitehaven  was  one.  ''Do 
you  see  how  that  chap  does  itT'  he  asked  me 
once,  during  a  great  campaign  Mainwaring  was 
making,  entirely  alone,  in  the  Black  Country. 
*'I  do.  He  doesn't  stop  at  preaching,  or  tell- 
ing people  how  we  tread  on  'em.  Not  at  all. 
He  tells  'em  what  to  do.  'Come  along,'  he 
booms,  'and  pull  their  houses  about  their  ears.^ 
That  they  understand.  Talk's  no  good ;  it's  ac- 
tion they  want.  "Well!  off  they  go  together. 
Then  at  the  last  minute  he  switches  'em  off  like 
a  pointsman,  and  takes  'em  into  a  siding.  'By 
George,  that  was  a  good  one!'  they  say.  And 
so  say  the  beaks  when  some  poor  devil  comes 
up  next  assizes  for  downing  a  policeman.  'But 
for  Mr.  Mainwaring 's  presence  of  mind  a  most 
dangerous  state  of  things  might  have  arisen. 
.  .  .'  Do  you  see?  He  gets  it  both  ways,  any 
time.     Sharp  chap." 

It  was  so.  It  was  very  much  Bill  Birks^ 
view  of  him.  The  public,  it  is  said,  loves  to  be 
deceived.  No  doubt  it  does,  for  it  is  always  de- 
ceiving itself.  After  all,  Mainwaring  himself 
was  only  the  public  in  an  intensive  form.  If 
-he  hadn't  taken  himself  seriously,  swallowed 
himself  whole,  like  a  horse-ball,  he  would  never 
have   taken   in   his   fellow-publicans.    On  the 


94  MAINWARING 

other  hand,  he  was  worth  swallowing.  There 's 
no  doubt  about  that.  As  he  was  fond  of  saying, 
he  had  a  fire  in  his  belly.  There  were  times 
when  he  could  have  ignited  the  Thames;  there 
were  times  when  you  may  say  that  he  did.  Who 
will  forget  his  Westminster  Election,  and  his 
*'To  H-11  with  Privilege''?  Nobody  who  heard 
him — his  artful  peroration  leading  up  to  those 
savage  words  uttered  with  something  between 
a  snarl  and  a  roar;  nobody  who  saw  his  lean- 
ness, his  height,  his  leonine  head,  his  pallor,  his 
jet-black  mane  and  his  burning  eyes.  Privilege 
is  an  old  hack,  as  often  terrassee  as  you  please. 
She  has  weathered  many  Westminster  Elec- 
tions, from  Charles  Fox's  onwards.  But  it 
looked  as  if  she  was  to  have  it  in  the  neck  that 
time.  There  was  an  ugly  rush  down  Parlia- 
ment Street  after  Mainwaring's  speech  in  the 
Square,  which  I  myself  believe  nothing  could 
have  stopped  but  just  what  did — Mainwaring 
himself,  namely,  at  the  precise  moment  of  time 
when  it  could  have  been  done.  He  turned  them 
at  the  very  gates  of  Palace  Yard,  standing  up 
in  the  chair  in  which  they  carried  him.  He 
didn't  take  his  hands  out  of  his  breeches 
pockets — how  rarely  he  did ! — but  he  jerked  his 
head  the  way  he  wished  to  be  carried,  and  his 


THE  FREE  LANCER  95 

great  forelock  flew  out  like  a  flag.  '*To  the 
right,  my  lads,  bear  to  the  right !'*  And  they 
did — God  knows  why.  He  told  me  afterwards 
that  at  that  moment  he  hadn't  a  ghost  of  a  no- 
tion where  they  were  to  go,  or  what  he  was  to  say 
when  he  was  put  down — somewhere.  That  was 
one  of  the  many  moments  when  he  could  have 
done  what  he  liked — from  commanding  an  army 
in  the  field  to  squaring  the  circle.  Yet  that 
night,  as  I  happen  to  know,  he  had  four-and- 
sixpence  in  his  pocket,  and  was  in  debt  £4,000. 
It  was  that  particular  feat  which  earned  for 
Richard  Denzil  Blaise  Mainwaring  the  inter- 
pretation of  his  initials  which  he  loved,  and 
wore  like  the  rosette  of  the  Legion  of  Honour: 
R.D.B.;  Richard-Damn-to-Blazes  some  wag 
called  him,  and  it  stuck.  Mainwaring  saw  to 
that.  Luckily  too  for  him,  his  head  of  a  black 
panther,  his  leanness  and  length  were  grist 
for  the  caricaturists'  mill.  They  turned  out 
R.D.B.'s  like  sausages  at  Chicago.  At  the 
Westminster  Election  walking-sticks  were  sold 
in  hundreds,  where  his  forelock  was  the  handle. 
The  forelock  and  the  sunken  eyes  under  great 
shaggs  of  brow  were  the  features  which  hit  the 
popular  pencil. 

But  all  this  forensic  frippery  did  nothing  to 


96  MAINWAKINO 

advance  him  in  the  House,  where,  it  was  never 
disguised,  the  party- Whips  were  excessively- 
bored  with  him.  He  would  not  be  counted  on, 
and,  what  was  worse,  he  inspired  Coward  and 
the  one  or  two  others  who  were  on  the  fringe 
of  the  opposition  with  the  same  independence. 
A  very  few  more  of  them,  and  there  would  have 
been  a  Labour  Party  some  thirty  years  before 
the  time.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  pretty  soon 
came  to  be  understood  that  nothing  short  of  the 
last  trump  would  call  him  into  the  same  lobby 
with  Bentivoglio.  Therefore,  if  he  voted  at  all, 
it  would  be  with  the  opposition.  That  was 
something;  but  it  was  his  oratory  which  noth- 
ing could  curb.  The  Whips,  I  believe,  like  to 
have  an  idea  who  is  going  to  speak,  who  will 
answer  whom,  and  so  on.  But  Mainwaring  was 
incalculable,  because  speaking,  with  him,  was  a 
matter  of  emotion.  When  he  was  moved  he 
was  irrepressible,  and  simply  magnificent.  If 
he  was  speaking  by  arrangement,  by  design,  by 
calculation  or  what-not,  as  like  as  not  he  made 
a  mess  of  it.  **Me  dear  man,''  he  told  me  once, 
**when  a  thing  fires  me  I  am  omniscient.  The 
iCJniverse  unrolls  itself ;  I  see  the  stars  in  their 
courses.  You  may  trust  me  when  you  hear 
me  then.    I  cannot  be  wrong. ' '    It  wasn  't  at  all 


THE  FREE  LANCER  97 

necessary  to  believe  that;  all  that  was  wanted 
was  that  he  should  believe  it— which  he  nn- 
feignedly  did.  So,  consequently,  did  many 
other  people. 

His  scorn  and  abhorrence  of  Bentivoglio  were 
undoubtedly  a  great  gain  to  the  opposition. 
Even  old  Hardman,  who  was  of  the  old  school 
himself,  learned  to  count  upon  him.  I  suppose 
he  disapproved  of  every  second  word  Main- 
waring  uttered,  but  he  could  not  fail  to  approve 
of  its  effect.  He  was  occasionally  very  violent, 
he  was  often  abominably  rude;  but  however 
violent  and  however  rude  he  was,  there  was  a 
simplicity  behind  which  appealed  to  the  House 's 
better  part.  Mainwaring  was  not  unpopular 
with  the  House  itself — on  the  contrary,  he  was 
not  only  always  heard,  but  he  was  cheered  on 
rising  and  cheered  when  he  sat  down.  The 
word  went  about  when  he  rose,  and  the  House 
filled. 

Some  of  his  good  things  got  about,  and  (as 
generally  happens)  some  other  people's  good 
things  accrued  to  him  as  he  went  on.  I  remem- 
ber one  which  delighted  everybody  for  a  week. 
Criticizing  Sir  Nicholas  Usedom,  who  was  then 
Attorney  General  and  remained,  none  the  less, 
the    solemn    sepulchre    he    had    always    been. 


98  MAINWAEING 

Mainwaring  said  that  he  had  *'all  the  qualities 
of  the  kitchen  poker  without  its  occasional 
warmth.''  Whether  it  was  his  own  or  not, 
doesn't  matter.  It  was  a  delightful  thing  to 
have  said.  And  he  was  very  clever,  too,  in 
turning  an  offensive  thing  into  a  ridiculous 
thing.  ^^The  Eight  Honourable  gentleman" — 
this  was  of  Birkett,  the  lethargic  Secretary  of 
State,  goaded  at  last  into  a  Bill — ^'stimulated 
by  the  genial  and  unaccustomed  warmth  of  his 
leader's  praise,  now  skips  here  and  there  over 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  Constitution  like 
the  fleas  in  his  bed" — there  was  a  roar  at  this 
outrageous  sally,  and  Mainwaring  made  one  of 
his  most  impressive  pauses.  ^'I  beg  your  par- 
don, Mr.  Speaker,  for  a  breach  of  decorum.  I 
should  have  said,  and  intended  to  say,  like  the 
fleas  in  my  bed."  He  enjoyed  himself,  and 
was  allowed  to. 

He  made  very  light  of  his  triumphs,  such  as 
they  were,  and  valued  much  more  the  adoration 
he  received  from  his  miners  in  Durham  and 
dockers  at  the  Tower.  *'It's  nothing  at  all,  just 
nothing  at  all,"  he  told  me.  ''I'm  feeling  for 
my  feet.  When  I've  bottomed  that  pond  I'U 
stir  up  something  from  the  deeps.  But  give 
me  time."    On  another  occasion  he  said,  "It's 


THE  FEEE  LANCER  99 

in  me^ — ^it's  not  myself,  but  the  demon  inside  of 
me.  I  can't  stop  it,  and  don't  want.  Bnt  let 
me  tell  you  this:  a  man  who  can  lead  a  horde 
of  starving  men  and  women  can  lead  the  House 
of  Commons  where  he  pleases.  The  force  is  the 
same,  but  it  needs  different  application.  The 
House  is  not  a  mob,  because  every  man  in  it, 
by  the  fact  of  his  being  there,  knows  that  he  is 
somebody.  My  business  is  to  convince  such  a 
man  that  I  am  two-bodies,  his  better  self  and 
my  own  self.  Do  that,  and  you  're  made. ' '  He 
seemed  to  have  no  doubt  that  that  was  a  simple 
matter. 

He  was  four  or  five  years  in  the  House  be- 
fore he  took  any  definite  line,  except  where 
Labour  was  concerned.  There  he  was  very 
wary  about  disclosing  his  hand.  But  when  the 
General  Election  of  18 —  was  held,  and  the 
Liberals  came  back  triumphant,  every  one  be- 
lieved that  he  would  be  found  a  place.  He  was 
not,  however.  He  found  one  for  himself.  But 
I  shall  come  to  that. 

He  made  more  money  as  he  went  on,  but  he 
also  spent  more.  Lizzy  had  given  up  the 
struggle  in  the  only  way  really  open  to  her. 
She  refused  absolutely  to  have  any  more  from 
me,  and  would  have  repaid  me  what  little  I  had 


100  MAINWAEING 

lent  her  by  a  forced  loan  from  her  people  if  I 
would  have  had  it.  I  satisfied  my  feelings  by 
agreeing  to  Mainwaring's  demands  whenever  I 
thought  that  he  intended  to  pay  bills  with  them. 
I  told  him  so  plainly,  and  he  took  it  quite  sim- 
ply when  once  he  understood  that  I  meant  what 
I  said. 

^'My  poor  girl — yes,  yes.  I  shall  take  it  as 
a  kindness  to  her.  You  may  trust  to  my 
honour,  my  dear  fellow. ' ' 

**  Credit  her  integrity,  Mainwaring, ' '  I  said. 
'^Kemember  what  you  took  her  from." 

^*A  mixen,''  he  cried,  staring  out. 

*'Not  at  all.  You  know  that.  You  took  her 
from  a  life  where  everything  was  paid  for  be- 
fore it  was  used ;  and  worked  for  before  it  could 
be  paid  for." 

^'A  life  without  a  future— without  a  past. 
A  life  of  animals.    But  I'll  make  it  up  to  her." 

**You  won't.  She  doesn't  want  what  you 
want."  He  knew  it  very  well,  but  it  angered 
him  that  I  did  too. 

^'A  man  must  fulfil  his  destiny.  No  woman 
can  stop  him.  I  tell  you  I  have  these  marion- 
nettes  by  the  jig-strings.  Have  patience  and 
you  shall  see  them  dance." 

*'I  am  not  your  spiritual  director,"  I  said. 


THE  FEEE  LANCER  l&l 

''It  is  nothing  to  me  whether  you  dance  to  Lady 
Whitehaven  or  she  to  you ;  but  it  is  in  my  mind 
to  tell  you  that  I  think  your  wife's  standard  a 
higher  one  than  yours.  She  fulfils  the  laws  of 
her  being;  you  wish  to  transcend  yours.  There 
are  two  ways  of  doing  that,  of  which,  it  seems 
to  me,  you  have  chosen  the  wrong.'' 

He  gloomed  at  me  with  reproachful  eyes. 
''You  never  believed  in  me — but  you  shall." 

"Oh,"  I  said,  "I  think  you  might  set  the 
Thames  on  fire." 

"That  will  be  something,"  he  said,  very  much 
gratified. 

"It  will  be  very  little  indeed  compared  to 
Lizzy's  obedience." 

He  stared  at  me  open-mouthed,  then  turned 
away.  "The  girl  has  bewitched  you.  Well, 
she  bewitched  me,  in  a  bad  hour.  She's  a 
beautiful  woman." 

"She's  prepared  to  live  beautifully,"  I  said. 
"I  wish  you'd  help  her." 

Here  he  began  to  jump  about,  his  hands 
plunged  deep.  He  jigged  from  one  foot  to  the 
other.  "I've  got  work  to  do — ^work  to  do.  She 
must  help. ' ' 

But  in  truth,  by  this  time  he  despaired  of  her 
help.    I  think  that  he  had  done  so  from  the  be- 


m>  MAINWARING 

ginning.  Otherwise,  how  was  it  that  he  never 
let  any  one  know  that  he  was  married?  Bill 
Birks  didn't  know  it,  Coward  didn't  know  it; 
the  Duchess  didn't  know  it.  Lady  Whitehaven 
did.  He  told  her  everything.  From  his  point 
of  view  it  was  the  only  thing  to  do,  perhaps. 
Lizzy  would  not  go  into  the  high  world;  he 
refused  to  take  her  into  any  other.  He  was  not 
here  to  make  a  Labour  Party,  though  he  in- 
tended Labourers  to  believe  that  he  was.  He 
was  here  to  make  himself  a  place.  He  told  me 
that  he  intended  ^^to  climb  into  Downing  Street 
on  the  miners'  backs.''  He  told  no  one  else,  I 
believe;  but  Lizzy  knew  it,  had  known  it  all 
along,  and  she  thought  it  horrible.  That  was 
her  reason — one  of  her  reasons,  anyhow — for 
washing  her  hands  of  his  aifairs. 

It  was  wonderful  to  me  that  she  knew  so  much 
— for  assuredly  she  did  not  have  it  from  him. 
When  I  knew  her  so  well  that  she  could  talk 
to  me  freely,  without  forethought  or  after- 
thought, she  told  me  what  I  had  half  guessed 
already,  that  it  was  he  who  had  inflamed  the 
miners  of  Culgaith  into  striking  when  they  did. 
True,  they  gained  by  it  in  the  end;  but  you  can 
see  how  the  conviction  of  her  husband's  cheat 
must  "have  taken  all  the  heart  out  of  so  simple 


THE  FREE  LANCER  103 

and  honest  a  creature  as  Lizzy.  She  saw,  she 
endured  herself,  those  weeks  of  suffering,  knew 
that  they  were  needless,  knew  that  they  were 
unjust.  Even  if  they  had  been  just,  Mainwar- 
ing's  hands  were  not  clean. 

It  may  have  been  that  which  turned  his 
drudge  into  his  judge.  I  am  sure  it  was  that 
which  decided  her  to  have  no  share  in  his  climb- 
ing feats  in  West  End  mansions.  She  knew 
what  he  was  there  for.  He  climbed  poles — for 
buns.  She  had  all  the  worker  ^s  scorn  for  short- 
cuts. 


vm 

MONTAGU   SQUABB 

I  AM  not  very  sure  when  the  Mainwarings 
moved  from  Chelsea  to  Tyburn  and  en- 
trenched themselves  in  a  furnished  house  in 
Montagu  Square,  but  believe  it  was  shortly 
after  that  General  Election  I  spoke  of  when  the 
Liberals  came  in  with  a  thumping  majority  and 
Mainwaring,  if  he  had  made  a  sign,  could  have 
got  an  Under-Secretaryship  or  a  lordship  of  the 
Treasury.  When  I  say  that  the  Mainwarings 
moved,  I  mean,  of  course,  that  Mainwaring 
moved,  and  when  I  say  that  they  entrenched,  I 
mean  that  he  did;  for  my  poor  Lizzy  was  in- 
capable of  it.  You  might  as  well  have  expected 
her  to  make  an  ingle-nook  in  the  Crystal  Palace. 
[But  Mainwaring  was  delighted  with  it,  and 
spent  other  people's  money  like  wine  to  keep 
himself  aglow.  It  was  vast,  with  much  pale 
paint  and  gliding.  I  never  saw  a  house  look 
so  uninhabited.  The  drawing-room  was  full  of 
huge  looking-glasses.  It  might  do  for  a  crowd ; 
for  one  or  two  it  was  impossible.    Lizzy  vowed 

104 


MONTAGU  SQUAEE  105 

that  it  was  haunted,  and  that  she  couldn^t  use 
it.  It  was  of  course  haunted  by  her  own  sad 
face,  which  she  saw  from  every  angle  whither- 
soever she  turned.  It  wanted  two  great  fires 
all  day — and  didn't  get  them.  So  it  had  a 
mildewed  look,  and  in  the  winter  the  frost 
settled  into  it  like  a  blight.  Then  there  was  a 
great  dining-room  full  of  heavy  mahogany  and 
prints  of  one's  grandfather's  time:  Wellington 
and  Bliicher  meeting  on  the  field  of  Waterloo; 
Coming  of  Age  in  the  Olden  Days ;  The  Monarch 
of  the  Glen,  and  a  still  life  of  sportsmen,  stags, 
a  boat,  some  Highlanders,  dogs  and  dead  fish. 
Mainwaring  saw  himself  presiding  at  a  political 
dinner — in  fact,  there  was  to  be  one.  I  was 
asked,  and  was  coming.  So  was  the  Prime 
Minister,  it  seemed.  There  were  to  have  been 
ladies,  but  I'm  coming  to  them.  Lizzy  heard 
her  husband  tell  me  all  this,  or  she  may  have 
heard.  She  looked  a  frozen  woman — Lot 's  wife 
with  the  salt  in  her  veins ;  Niobe  feeling  the  grip 
of  the  stone.  Afterwards  he  took  me  to  his 
library,  and  showed  me  his  books.  A  great 
many  of  them  were  real  books — all,  I  think,  to 
the  eye-level;  I  saw  The  Quarterly  Review 
and  Annual  Register,  But  above  that  they 
were  shams  and  unabashed,  without  so  much 


106  MAINWAKINa 

as  titles  printed  on  them,  or  Vol.  I  and  Vol.  11. 
I  found  it  all  uncommonly  bleak,  and  thought  it 
a  mistake — but  he  was  as  happy  as  a  child  over 
it.  He  kept  me  there  for  an  hour  or  more  while 
he  talked,  and  I  went  away  without  sight  of 
Lizzy. 

I  called  as  soon  as  I  decently  could,  and  found 
her  in  the  *^ housekeeper's  room,''  so  pointedly 
designated  by  the  maid  who  opened  the  door. 
*^ Madam  is  in  the  housekeeper's  room,"  she 
said — to  mark  her  disapproval  of  such  goings 
on,  I  suppose. 

I  thought  she  was  quite  right,  I  must  say.  It 
was  the  smallest  and  dingiest  room  I  had  seen, 
but  at  least  it  looked  like  a  human  habitation. 
Lizzy's  work-basket  was  open  on  the  table. 
Her  birds  were  in  the  window.  There  were 
her  flowers,  her  portraits  of  her  father  and 
mother  and  married  sister.  And  there,  above 
all,  was  my  rueful  beauty  in  her  black,  pale  as 
the  moon  in  a  cloudy  sky.  She  blushed, 
smiled  and  rose.     I  took  her  hand  for  a  moment. 

**You  shun  your  fine  drawing-room?" 

She  laughed.  **Yes,  it's  much  too  fine  for 
me.  I  feel  like  a  shrimp  in  the  Pacific.  Be- 
sides, I'm  the  housekeeper  now — and  plenty  to 
do,  I  can  tell  you." 


MONTAGU  SQUARE  107 

I  didn't  take  in  what  she  meant  by  that,  and 
talked  of  something  else.  Presently  I  per- 
suaded her  to  take  a  turn  in  the  Park.  She  was 
delighted.  ^'Oh,  I  shall  love  it.  You  don't 
know  how  I  long  for  the  air.  But  when  IVe 
done  my  shopping  in  the  morning  there  seems 
nowhere  to  go.  I  think  I  had  rather  stifle  than 
go  alone,  unless  I  have  something  to  do.' ' 

'  ^  But  why  should  you  go  alone  1 ' '  She  didn  't 
allow  herself  to  be  serious. 

^*0h,  I  can't  pick  up  with  anybody  now,  you 


see 


f'» 


That  was  the  kind  of  thing  she  used  to  say 
which  confounded  my  understanding  and  my 
utterance  at  once.  The  humility  of  the  thought 
and  the  memories  it  betrayed  broke  me  down. 
Such  a  woman  to  *'pick  up"  with  some  one,  or 
any  one !  But  they  do  it,  you  know.  Beauty, 
nobility,  have  no  prerogative.  A  woman  is  a 
woman,  a  perquisite  of  the  hardy  eye. 

We  went  into  the  Park  at  the  Marble  Arch 
and  walked  down  the  Avenue.  A  balmy  eve- 
ning of  late  April,  with  the  trees  just  breaking 
into  golden  leaf.  We  walked  slowly  and 
silently,  as  intimates  may  without  discomfort. 
We  had  become  intimate  friends,  on  my  own 
intense  desire;  on  her  side,  she  had  slipped 


108  MAINWAEING 

into  intimacy  unawares.  Poor  girl,  she  had  no 
other  friend  except  the  servants  in  their  new 
house.  But  those  two  were  really  her  friends. 
She  had  known  the  cook  before  she  married, 
she  told  me,  and  had  made  a  friend  of  the  other 
girl.     She  would  have  no  disguises  there. 

But  I  think  she  trusted  me  altogether,  and  I 
know  that  I  was  more  useful  to  her  than  her 
servants.  I  suppose,  indeed,  that  she  must 
have  known  what  my  feelings  for  her  were. 
They  say  that  women  always  do.  Not  a  word 
had  been  said,  of  course — ^I  had  been  much  too 
careful  to  kindle  dangerous  fire  in  either  of  us. 
Yet,  speaking  for  myself,  a  great  peace  pos- 
sessed me  at  this  time;  and  speaking  for  her, 
I  believe  she  relied  wholly  upon  me.  We  lived 
in  the  present,  we  lived  from  hour  to  hour ;  we 
deprived  Mainwaring  of  nothing,  and  expected 
nothing  of  him  but  what  we  had.  It  was  a 
strange  relationship,  yet  (speaking  again  for 
myself)  it  gave  me  sheer  happiness.  As  my 
love  had  begun  by  respect,  so  I  did  not  bum  for 
the  possession  of  her.  If  I  had  found  myself  m 
such  a  state  of  mind  I  believe  I  should  have  left 
her  immediately. 

Presently  she  took  my  arm,  and  I  knew  what 
that  meant. 


MONTAGU  SQUAEE  109 

*^Well— r^said. 

**I  want  to  tell  you  something.'' 

'*I  know  that  you  do/' 

**I  have  made  up  my  mind  about  Montagu. 
Square.  You  see,  I  had  to.  He  wants  to  have^ 
company  there.  He  says  that  it  is  necessary; 
now,  and  that  he  can  afford  it.'' 

' '  Can  he,  do  you  think  ? ' ' 

She  sighed.  **0h,  I  don't  know.  I'm  sure 
he  is  deep  in  debt — but  it  is  far  beyond  me  now. 
Thousands,  I  daresay.  People  help  him — the 
Duchess,  he  says,  and  I  know  that  there  are 
people  in  the  city.  He  has  a  great  scheme — 
he  won't  tell  me  what  it  is.  But  about  his 
parties,  he  wanted  me  to  receive  the  people  and 
sit  at  the  table." 

**Well,  my  dear,  of  course  he  did." 

*^0h,  but—"  She  pressed  closer—**!  told 
him  that  I  would  never  do  it.  It  made  him 
furious;  and  then  I  was  angry  too.  He  said 
that  Lady  Whitehaven  would  help  me. ' ' 

**So  she  would,  you  know.  You  don't  mind 
that  ?    You  know  that  you  like  her. ' ' 

**Yes,  I  like  her.  I'm  sorry  for  her.  But  I 
won't  do  it." 

**  What  will  you  do,  then?  Hide  in  the  house- 
keeper's room?" 


110  MAINWAEING- 

**I  said  I  would  do  whichever  he  liked — stay 
there  or  wait  at  table/'  She  felt  me  start; 
looked  at  me,  and  then  became  vehement.  ^  ^  No- 
body knows  who  I  am,  so  why  shouldn't  I!  I 
can  do  that  well,  and  I  should  feel  I  was  being 
useful.  You  wouldn't  mind?  You  won't  stop 
me  ? ' '    She  was  all  alight  with  her  idea. 

I  told  her  that  I  saw  no  harm  in  it.  It  might 
prevent  Mainwaring  having  ladies  to  dinner, 
though  I  didn't  see  why  it  should.  But,  being 
what  he  was,  he  would  most  likely  find  it  too 
much  trouble.  *^I  see  your  point,  of  course," 
I  said,  ^^and  only  one  practical  difficulty  occurs 
to  me.  If  you  are  going  to  wait  at  the  table, 
nothing  will  bring  me  to  sit  at  it.  He  has  asked 
me  to  the  first  of  them,  you  know.  To  meet 
the  Prime  Minister." 

That  troubled  her.     *^You  wouldn't  come?" 

*^No,"  I  said.  ^'I  couldn't  do  it.  I  should 
be  jumping  up  to  help  you  all  the  time.  As 
things  are  now  I  can't  let  you  wait  upon  me." 

^  *  Don 't  you  see —  ? ' '  She  stopped  there,  with 
a  sigh.  Then  she  said  it.  ^^ Don't  you  see  that 
I  should  love  it?" 

*^My  dear,"  I  said,  *^I  believe  I  do.  Now  I 
want  you  to  see  that  I  should  hate  it.  I  think 
it  would  be  one  of  the  most  beautiful  sights  in 


MONTAGU  SQUARE  111 

theS^orld — but  it  isn't  one  for  me  to   see.'' 

She  bent  her  head  and  was  silent,  thinking  it 
all  out.  Then  she  said,  ^^Very  well,  I  won't  be 
there.  I  wish  to  please  you,  and  want  you  to 
be  there.  So  I  promise."  She  looked  into  my 
face,  and  what  she  said  made  my  heart  beat. 
*^But  may  I  do  it  when  you  don't  come!" 

*^0h,  Lizzy,"  I  said,  ''how  could  I  have  the 
heart  to  stop  you  when  you  ask  me  like  that?" 
She  pressed  my  arm,  and  then  took  her  hand 
away  from  it  altogether.  I  had  my  own  ideas 
about  it  all.  Mainwaring  would  no  doubt  be 
gratified  to  have  his  wife  waiting  behind  his 
chair,  especially  if  Lady  Whitehaven  was  beside 
him;  That  was  just  the  sort  of  thing  which 
ministered  to  his  vanity. 

The  oddity  was  that,  although  I  felt  sure  that 
she  had  better  leave  the  man  altogether  than 
stay  on  as  his  servant,  I  couldn't  tell  her  so. 
She  wouldn't  have  heard  me  out.  Nothing  but 
violence  on  his  part  would  have  driven  her  out 
of  his  house.     That  was  her  instinct. 

We  talked  presently  of  Mainwaring 's  pro- 
spects, which  she  thought  poorly  of.  *'He  had 
made  a  false  step,"  she  said,  ''and  is  going 
to  waste  himself.  He  is  going  to  earn  money, 
and  is  much  better  without  it.    Directly  he  loses 


112  MAINWAEING 

his  freedom  he  will  lose  his  force.    You'll  see." 

I  didn't  think  that  he  had  ever  pretended  to 
be  disinterested,  and  said  so.  *'He  means  to 
make  a  great  position,  and  has  never  meant 
anything  else." 

*'Yes,"  she  said,  **and  he  has  one.  If  he 
takes  office  he  will  lose  it." 

*  *  No ;  he's  clever  enough  not  to  do  that. ' ' 

She  smiled  sadly,  but  wisely.  ''He  isn't  so 
clever  as  you  think.  I  know  him  very  well. 
He  isn't  clever  enough  to  deny  himself  what  he 
wants. ' ' 

''But,  my  dearest  girl,  what  he  wants  is 
what  he  is  aiming  at.  He  may  be  mistaken ;  but 
if  he  gets  what  he  wants,  he  succeeds,  don't  you 
seel"     She  wouldn't  have  it. 

"No,  no.  He  wants  to  be  a  great  man,  and 
he  might  be  one  if  he  would  stand  alone.  If 
he  takes  office  he  won't  stand  alone.  He'll  be 
one  of  a  crowd." 

"A  very  small  crowd." 

"He'U  be  nothing,"  she  said;  "the  least  of 
them,  and  the  worst — because  he  will  have  sold 
himself. ' ' 

I  was  struck  silent  by  her  clear  vehemence, 
and  she  was  silent  too.  But  she  was  the  one 
who  broke  it.     "When  he  was  courting  me  he 


MONTAGU  SQUARE  113 

talked  to  me  all  day  long,  and  I  thought  he 
would  be  a  great  man.  He  was  all  for  the 
poor  then.    Now  he  is  climbing  on  their  backs. ' ' 

This  could  not  be  denied.  On  the  way  home 
she  said  a  startling  thing.  Lady  Whitehaven 
was  mentioned,  and  Lizzy  without  passion  re- 
vealed her  mind.  **Lady  Whitehaven!  She 
has  ruined  him — and  he  will  ruin  her. ' ' 

^^ Don't  say  that,"  I  begged  of  her;  *^and 
don't  think  it.  I  have  you  to  think  of  in  it 
all." 

^*0h,  me!"  she  said.  **I  don't  count  in  it. 
He  thinks  he  can  do  as  he  likes.  He  can't  be 
denied.  What  he  wants  he  must  have.  That 
is  where  the  trouble  is.  She  will  have  to  deny 
him.  The  young  lord  will  make  her.  There 
will  be  dreadful  trouble." 

There  was  no  answer  to  that,  unless  one  was 
prepared  with  a  remedy,  which  I  wasn't. 

I  walked  back  with  her  to  the  house  as  it 
was  getting  dusk,  and  found  her  husband  there. 
As  usual,  he  applauded  me  for  taking  Lizzy 
abroad.  '^If  it  weren't  for  you,"  he  said,  ^^my 
poor  girl  would  be  a  nun."  She  had  left  me 
with  him  in  his  *  library,"  so  I  took  my  chance. 

**  Better  that  she  should  be  a  nun,  my  dear 
man,    than   parlour-maid   in   her    own   house. 


114  MAINWAEING 

That's  what  has  been  arranged,  she  tells  me.'' 
He  would  have  blustered  me  down ;  but  I  stuck 
to  my  line.  I  will  always  say  for  him  that 
he  never  shirked  a  difficulty. 

**Begob,"  he  said,  after  a  brisk  interchange, 
**you  may  be  right.  I  never  gave  it  a  thought, 
to  be  plain  with  you.  But  we'll  soon  settle  it." 
He  rang  the  bell,  and  was  punctually  answered. 
''Ask  Mrs.  Mainwaring  to  be  so  good  as  to  step 
in  here." 

She  came  and  stood  in  the  doorway,  looking 
at  us  guardedly.    I  felt  uncomfortable. 

*'Come  here,  my  poor  Lizzy,"  he  said,  and  she 
came  slowly  towards  us.  He  put  his  arm  round 
her  waist  and  drew  her  nearer.  ''My  darling, 
our  friend  here  has  been  hammering  into  my 
skull  that  I  shall  be  treating  you  ill  at  the  din- 
ner-party. I  don't  say  he's  right  or  wrong.  I 
simply  say,  Leave  it  to  her.  Now,  for  the  last 
time,  will  you  sit  at  the  foot  of  the  table,  my 
dear,  or  will  you  wait  at  it,  as  you  thought  at 
first?  Don't  hurry,  my  love.  Let  us  know 
which  it  is  to  be.  If  you  choose  to  be  hostess, 
as  you  have  every  right  to  be,  you  shall  have  the 
best  silk  gown  money  can  buy — and  jewelry,  too, 
if  you  care  for  it.  But  I'm  thinking  that  a 
neck  like  yours  can  do  very  well  without  it." 


MONTAGU  SQUAEE  115 

She  wasn  't  long  over  it.  She  neither  nret  my 
eyes,  nor  sought  his.  '*I  have  chosen  already. 
I  shall  wait  at  table — but  not  next  month." 

Mainwaring  turned  triumphant  to  me. 
'^You  see.     She  knows  what  to  do." 

I  bowed.  *^I  have  nothing  to  say  against  her 
choice.  It  is  obvious  that  she  knows  what  to  do. 
I  can  only  regret  that  you  don't." 

He  tossed  his  great  head  up.  **You  little 
know  me  if  you  think  I  should  dare  interfere 
with  a  lady's  inclinations!" 

I  didn  't  ask  him  why  he  had  a  dinner-party  at 
all,  if  he  could  only  have  it  at  the  cost  of  his 
wife's  humiliation. 

**I'm  sorry  that  I  said  anything.  But  Lizzy 
knows  how  I  feel  about  such  things."  Then 
she  looked  at  me,  with  wide-open  eyes,  as  if 
asking  for  charity. 

*^Yes,  I  know  how  you  feel.  It  was  kind  of 
you,  but,  believe  me,  I  can't  do  anything  else." 
Then  she  left  us. 

Mainwaring  plunged  his  hands.  **They  ar^ 
queer!  It's  well  for  me  we  have  no  Woman's 
Suffrage.  You  can  lead  men  like  sheep — but 
you  must  be  a  woman  to  know  women.  My 
friend,  little  as  I  know  of  them,  I  know  more 
than  you  do." 


116  MAINWARING 

**I  am  studying  men  at  present,^'  I  said 
shortly.    *^IVe  not  got  to  the  bottom  yet.'' 

He  didn  't  take  the  trouble  to  answer  me.  He 
just  nodded  me  away  without  ceremony,  and 
turned  to  his  letters.  I  left  him  and  went  out 
into  the  hall  unaccompanied.  At  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  was  Lizzy. 

Her  colour  was  high.  ^*You  aren't  angry 
with  me  1    You  know  that  really  you  agree. ' ' 

**Yes,  my  dear,  I  agree  with  you — but  not 
with  him.  If  you  won't  appear  at  his  dinner- 
parties except  behind  his  chair,  he  ought  not 
to  give  dinner-parties  here  at  all.  That's  the 
real  way  out." 

She  dropped  her  eyes  and  shivered  ever  so 
slightly.     ^'All  men  aren't  like  you,"  she  said. 

**A11  men  don't  know  you,"  I  answered. 
**I'm  angry  with  Mainwaring." 

*  ^  Don 't  give  him  up, ' '  she  said. 
**I'll  never  give  you  up,  anyhow." 

She  looked  at  me — her  eyes,  clear  grey-green, 
were  full  of  faith. 

*^ Don't  talk  about  it.  Let  us  be  as  happy  as 
we  can." 

*  ^  As  we  dare, ' '  I  said.  She  shut  her  eyes  and 
shivered  again. 


MONTAGU  SQUAEE  117 

*^ Don't  talk  about  it.    I  can't.     Good-bye." 

I  didn't  dare  take  her  hand,  anyhow,  not 
knowing  what  I  might  not  have  done  with  it. 
So  I  left  her. 


IX 

AFTEB   DINNEE 

THE  dinner-party  was  as  solemn  and  stupid 
as  such  things  must  be  where  the  guests 
know  that  they  are  conferring  a  favour  and  the 
host,  knowing  it  too,  resents  it.  It  lacked  spon- 
taneity and  cordiality;  it  was  ill-balanced,  and 
I  should  say  did  Mainwaring  more  harm  than 
what  he  was  pleased  to  consider  good.  Main- 
waring 's  success  lay  in  defying  the  lightning,  or 
perhaps  in  making  a  rival  storm  of  his  own — 
it  comes  to  the  same  thing.  He  was  entirely 
without  the  social  gift;  his  gaiety  was  hollow, 
and  chiefly  mockery;  he  was  anxious  to  dis- 
turb, not  to  please.  He  needed  fiercely  the  sym- 
pathy of  women,  but  could  only  get  it  by 
frightening  them.  I  know  Lady  Whitehaven 
was  afraid  of  him;  I  think  he  scared  even  the 
effrontery  of  the  Duchess.  The  only  woman 
whom  he  could  not  move  either  to  admiration, 
hope,  or  love,  and  who  was  never  frightened 
of  him  was  liis  peasant-bom  Lizzy. 
It  was  because  he  wanted  Lady  AVhitehaven 

118 


AFTER  DINNER  119 

there,  and  because  she  wouldn't  come  alone,  that 
he  had  ladies  there  at  all.  He  only  had  three 
to  his  eight  men ;  but  three  was  a  crowd  if  he 
had  the  lady  of  his  desire.  The  Duchess  came — 
*^for  fun,''  as  she  said  (and  I  hope  she  got  it) ; 
Mrs.  Hardman  accompanied  the  Prime  Minis- 
ter; and  then  there  was  Lady  Whitehaven. 
She  was  practically  hostess,  though  her  sister 
took  the  edge  off  that  anomaly.  I  forget  what 
we  had  to  eat;  but  Vipond  saw  to  all  that,  and 
Vipond  had  a  name  to  keep.  How  Mainwaring 
paid  for  it,  or  if  he  ever  did,  I  didn't  enquire. 
All  I  know  about  that  is  that  when  he  left  the 
house  in  the  manner  which  I  have  to  relate,  it 
was  I  who  tipped  the  major-domo  and  the 
chef. 

It  is  hard  to  say  offhand  if  such  absurd  shows 
as  this  ever  profit  a  man  on  the  make.  It  is 
so  easy  to  confuse  spending  money  with  prog- 
ress, and  a  common  fallacy  that  the  more  you 
spend  the  more  you  make.  Consider  this  party 
for  a  moment:  Hardman  must  have  known 
that  he  was  condescending,  the  Duchess  must 
have  known  that  she  was  playing;  and  you 
would  have  said  that  Lady  Whitehaven  must 
have  known  that  she  was  playing  with  fire.    If 


120  MAINWAEING 

she  didn't,  by  Jove,  she  found  out.  I  never 
saw  a  man  so  publicly  and  avowedly  in  posses- 
sion of  another  man's  wife  before.  She  could 
not,  of  course,  sit  by  him,  though  he  was  aw- 
fully sulky  about  it  and  scowled  at  her  down  the 
table  whenever  he  had  time  to  remember  his 
grief.  There  are  some  conventions  too  strong 
even  for  Main  waring 's  will.  But  that  made 
her  seem  still  more  the  Hausfrau,  and  secretly 
I'll  swear  he  was  pleased.  In  every  other  re- 
spect he  treated  her  like  wife  or  mistress, 
ordered  her  about,  signed  to  her  what  she  was 
to  do,  kept  her  Greuze  eyes  upon  him  perpetu- 
ally in  appeal  or  enquiry ;  and  afterwards,  when 
the  men  went  upstairs,  took  her  into  a  comer 
and  hectored  her  in  vehement  whispers,  like  a 
lover,  leaving  all  the  rest  to  shift  for  themselves. 
That,  thanks  to  the  Duchess,  they  immediately 
did.  She  v  is  a  favourite  with  the  P.  M. — and, 
after  all,  she  was  a  duchess,  and  a  fashionable 
duchess.  She  made  no  secret — ^why  should  she? 
^*0h,  those  two  are  hopeless  I"  she  said  to  Hard- 
man,  brought  Verschoyle  up  with  a  lift  of  the 
eyebrow  to  take  charge  of  Mrs.  Hardman,  then 
turned  to  the  P.  M.  and  kept  him  amused.  As 
for  the  ruck,  they  went  hang;  and  as  for  me, 
I  went  to  see  Lizzy  in  the  housekeeper's  room. 


AFTER  DINNER  121 

She  looked  at  me  in  a  guarded,  serious,  care- 
ful way,  only  a  flicker  of  a  smile  upon  her  lips, 
her  beautiful  eyes  in  cloud.  I  knew  that  she 
was  expecting  me,  that  my  presence  could  com- 
fort her,  that  for  a  time  at  least  she  could  for- 
get that  she  was  a  stranger,  and  a  sojourner  in 
a  strange  land.  She  had  a  book  open  on  her 
lap ;  I  don  ^t  think  she  had  been  reading  it.  She 
liked  me  to  read  to  her,  but  was  not  naturally 
a  reader.  She  was  her  mother's  child,  inspired, 
as  she  was  built,  for  maternity,  the  care  of  a 
house,  the  comfort  and  solace  of  a  man.  She 
should  have  been  the  light  of  a  man 's  days,  the 
joy  and  peace  of  his  nights.  Here  she  was  noth- 
ing, and  knew  it.  It  was  much  to  her  that  I 
loved  her — and  all  the  world  to  me. 

Lizzy  was  a  woman  with  whom  one  could  re- 
main silent  without  gme,  imbibing  her  benig- 
nant femininity  through  the  pores,  as  it  were. 
She  radiated  peace,  she  was  as  comfortable,  and 
beautiful  too,  as  a  wood  fire.  After  I  had 
sketched  with  a  light  hand  the  order  of  events 
upstairs,  we  sat  quietly  together  without  talk, 
except  now  and  again  for  a  murmur  which 
might  utter  a  passing  thought.  I  believe  that 
I  comforted  her;  I  know  that  she  enriched  me. 
To  love  her,  as  some  one  said  of  some  one  else, 


122  MAINWAEING 

was  a  liberal  education.  One  could  at  least  cor- 
rect one's  standard  of  values. 

A  light  finger  at  the  door  announced  Lady 
Whitehaven,  whose  rosy  face  and  laughing,  kind 
eyes  peeped  in  upon  us  before  the  rest  of  her 
shimmering  person.  I  had  been  expecting  her 
for  some  time,  knowing  that  her  kindness  of 
heart  would  insist  upon  her  effort  to  showiLizzy 
that  everything  was  for  the  best.  *  ^  May  I  come 
for  a  peep  at  you?  How  snug  you  are  here. 
You  shy  bird,  you  should  have  plucked  up  your 
courage.  The  grandees  behaved  like  lambs, 
and  it  \vas  all  delightful  but  for  your  being 
away.  The  table — lovely.  Your  doing,  of 
course.  And  your  man  behaved  beautifully — 
for  him,  you  know.'' 

That  was  too  optimistic  for  me,  sore  with 
Mainwaring  as  I  was.  *^0h,  come,''  I  said, 
*^ really,  as  a  man  of  integrity,  I  can't  pass  that. 
Didn  't  you  hear  Mrs.  Hardman  ?  '  My  husband 
is  speaking,  Mr.  Mainwaring,'  she  said." 

She  laughed  with  confusion — quite  pretty. 
She  leaned  forward,  half-shut  her  eyes,  nodded 
and  whispered  the  words,  **Yes,  I  did.  Wasn't 
ita\^^ulr' 

**It  might  have  been  if  Mainwaring  hadn't 
been  so  taken  aback  that  he  was  robbed  of 


AFTER  DINNER  123 

speech.  He  opened  his  month  to  roar — but  the 
vocal  chords  were  appalled.    No  sound  came.*' 

**It  was  too  bad  of  the  P.  M. ;  but  of  course 
one  knows  him.  "Who  wanted  to  know  about  the 
Amalekites,''  this  was  to  Lizzy,  ^*when  your 
man  was  going  to  tell  us  about  the  boilermakers' 
strike?  He  told  me  all  about  it  afterwards. 
.Will  he  go  up  there  and  help  them,  Lizzy?" 

Lizzy  said  that  they  had  asked  him.  *^I  had 
much  rather  we  went  up  there  than  stayed 
here,"  she  said.  **We  shall  do  no  good  here 
to  anybody." 

There  was  no  bitterness  in  her  tone,  but  we 
both  knew  that  she  meant  it.  I  think,  too,  that 
each  one  of  us  knew  why  Mainwaring  would  not 
go  up  to  Jarrow.  Lady  Whitehaven  grew  seri- 
ous at  once.  ^  ^  You  really  think  that  ?  But,  you 
see,  for  his  career  he  must  be  in  touch  with  all 
the  great  people.  And  he  does  love  it  so,  and 
he  is  so  comic  about  it." 

That  was  an  error  of  judgment;  and  it  didn't 
carry  the  thing  on.  Perhaps  Lizzy  had  no  sense 
of  humour,  and  in  such  a  case  she  might  be  ex- 
cused, I  think.  I  thought  I  might  speak  for  her, 
so  represented  that  he  might  be  very  comic  to 
Lady  Whitehaven  and  yet  not  advance  his  af- 
fairs.   *^The  P.  M.,"  I  said,  '^ won't  put  him 


124  MAINWARING 

into  anything  for  his  dinners,  but  because  he 
can't  help  himself.  Mainwaring  has  only  to  be 
nuisance  enough  with  his  boilermakers  or 
cotton-spinners,  and  he  '11  get  all  he  wants.  Do 
tell  him  that  if  he  neglects  his  trade  unions  he's 
done  for." 

Lizzy  spoke  now,  quietly,  but  as  clearly  as  if 
she  saw  them.  ^^They  believe  in  him.  They 
stand  in  the  lanes  talking  about  him.  The 
women  write  to  him  about  their  troubles." 

Lady  Whitehaven  looked  unhappy,  and  no 
doubt  was  so,  for  she  had  a  good  heart. 

^^Oh,  I  am  sure  he  will  never  betray  them — 
and  so  are  you,  Lizzy.  Tell  me  that  you  are. 
But  you  must  give  him  time.  You  know  that 
he  has  a  great  coup  in  his  hands  I ' ' 

We  didn't,  and  she  evidently  did.  That  con- 
fused her.  *^He  happened  to  ask  me  what  I 
thought.  It  just  bubbled  out  of  him.  He  knew 
that  I  knew  all  the  people,  you  see.  No,  I  won't 
tell  you  a  word  about  it.  You'll  have  it  all 
from  him  so  much  better  than  I  could  tell  you. 
It  will  be  very  exciting."  After  that  she  de- 
voted herself  to  charming  Lizzy  out  of  her 
solemnity,  talking  mostly  about  her  children. 
The  girl.  Lady  Mary,  was  to  be  presented  this 
year,  it  seemed — and  one  was  to  be  confirmed 


AFTER  DINNER  125 

at  school.  She  was  perfectly  natural,  and  did 
it  very  well.  Lizzy  could  always  talk  about 
children,  and  presently  contributed  shy  anec- 
dotes of  her  brothers  and  sisters  as  comparisons 
and  illustrations.  The  lady  played  up,  and  we 
had  a  happy  conversation,  in  which  my  part 
was  to  be  touched  almost  to  tears.  It  interested 
me  vastly  to  watch  those  two — and  see  the 
high  lady  courting  the  peasant  woman. 

I  don't  know  how  long  it  may  have  lasted; 
but  it  had  a  shocking  interruption.  Mainwar- 
ing  came  in  upon  us.  He  had  been  drinking 
and  looked  very  wild.  He  took  no  notice  what- 
ever of  Lizzy  or  me,  but  bent  his  ragged  brows 
upon  the  poor  lady  whose  efforts  to  avoid  the 
appearance  of  strain  were  pathetic  in  their 
gallantry.  They  were  rather  like  sheltering 
from  a  thunderstorm  under  a  Japanese  para- 
sol. 

*^They  have  all  gone.  Your  sister  asked  for 
you.  I  lied  about  you,  said  you  had  gone  on 
somewhere.'' 

/^Oh,  I  know.  I  ought  to  have  been  in  half- 
a-dozen  places.     But  Lizzy — " 

^*I  wished  for  you.  You  ought  not  to  have 
left  me." 


126  MAINWAEINa 

*^  Really,  Main  waring — ^'  I  began,  but  he  took 
no  more  notice  of  me  than  if  I  had  been  the  wind 
in  the  chimney. 

^*For  what  it  is  worth  yon  have  had  my  de- 
votion. You  know  what  my  feeling  is.  What, 
good  heavens,  are  these  people  to  me  unless  you 
are  there  to  give  them  any  significance?  You 
are  like  the  sun  which  gives  life  to  dead  earth. 
You  are  the  moon  above  black  waters,  gilding 
them  to — '^  He  had  not  the  slightest  suspicion 
that  he  was  talking  rank  melodrama — and  I 
don 't  believe  that  Lady  Whitehaven  had  either. 

She  had  risen  now,  poor  woman,  not  able  to 
pretend  any  longer.  She  had  a  keen  sense  of 
fun,  but  I  doubt  if  she  saw  how  comic  all  this 
might  be.  You  need  to  be  spectator,  not  actor, 
if  you  are  to  be  diverted. 

**You  mustn't  be  so  complimentary,  you 
know.  It  is  ver}^  bad  for  me.  And  really  I 
must  fly — "    He  grew  hot  and  very  wild. 

**I  see  that  I  weary  you.  I  am  to  be  thrown 
over — idle  lumber.  But  you  may  play  once  too 
often.  We  must  understand  each  other.  Rose.'' 
I  don't  think  either  of  us  knew  that  he  called 
her  Rose.  Rose  herself  was  horribly  fright- 
ened. She  had  turned  to  Lizzy,  who,  with  no 
art  at  her  command,  could  not  hide  her  dis- 


AFTEE  DINNER  127 

comfort.  She  submitted,  however,  to  the  kindly- 
hands,  even  to  the  kiss  of  her  unfortunate  guest. 

''Good-bye,  my  dear.  It  has  been  delightful 
to  have  this  little  chat.  I  must  really  go." 
She  nodded  to  me  and  turned  to  the  door. 
'Mainwaring  stalked  after  her  and  we  saw  no 
more  of  him.  Whether  they  left  together,  or 
whether  he  pursued  her  in  a  cab  I  never  knew. 

Lizzy  sat  down  again.  I  stood  near  her  for 
a  little.  There  was  nothing  to  be  said  unless 
I  said  all— and  that  I  dared  not  do.  At  the 
same  time  I  felt  that  it  was  necessary  to  cool 
down  the  temperature. 

''He's  boring  her  to  death;  I'm  very  sorry 
for  her,"  I  said. 

Lizzy  could  not  answer.  She  never  had  any 
of  the  small  change  of  talk. 

I  said  again,  "She  won't  stand  much  more  of 
it.     She'll  get  rid  of  him  altogether." 

Then  she  said,  "She  won't  be  able  to.  He  is 
treating  her  now  as  he  treated  me  at  first." 

"My  dear,"  I  said  to  her,  "does  it  hurt  you? 
Do  you  love  him?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "No,  no.  You  know 
I  don't.  But  it  is  insulting— I  am  offended.  I 
am  his  wife — and — "     She  could  not  go  on. 

"Lizzy,  I  ought  to  go.    But  I  can't  bear  to 


128  MAINWAEINa 

leave  you.'^  That  was  forced  out  of  me.  She 
showed  me  her  clear,  true  eyes. 

*^Yes,  go  now.  Don't  be  worried  about  me.. 
This  is  only  a  little  worse  than  it  .has  been  for 
a  long  time.  I  know^  that  things  like  it  go  on 
every  day — but  I  haven't  been  there.  Do  go 
now. ' ' 

**What  shall  you  do  when  I  have  gonef 

'*I  shall  go  to  bed.    What  else  could  I  doT' 

** Lizzy,  may  I  say  something?" 

She  looked  scared.  ''No,  nothing,  nothing. 
Please  don't.    I  mustn't  listen.     Besides — " 

*'Whatr' 

'' — I  know  it.  Now  go."  She  gave  me  her 
hand;  I  kissed  it,  and  w^ent  upstairs.  There 
I  found  Vipond's  myrmidons  in  shirt-sleeves 
dismantling  the  rooms.  They  had  to  be  ap- 
peased. They  enquired  of  me  rather  anxiously 
for  Mainwaring.  I  saw  them  off  the  place  be- 
fore I  left  it — left  it  bare  and  echoing,  with  the 
most  beautiful  woman  in  England  of  less  con- 
sideration in  it  than  a  toothless  old  caretaker 
with  an  imtied  bonnet  on  her  dusty  hair.  There 
was  nothing  to  be  done. 


LADY   WHITEHAVEN   IN   WOE 

I  WAS  in  the  most  painful  position  in  which 
lover  could  be.  The  woman  I  loved  I  dared 
not  comfort,  the  woman  I  honoured  I  must  see 
dishonoured.  I  had  no  locu^  standi  with  her 
husband,  none  which  I  could  claim  with  her. 
All  the  day  following  I  felt  her  dear  hands  pull- 
ing at  my  heartstrings ;  yet  I  might  not  venture 
to  present  myself  in  Montagu  Square.  There 
must  be  no  flaw  upon  her  quiet  perfection,  and 
I  felt  that  it  would  be  a  flaw  if  the  maid  at  the 
door  put  me  down  as  her  mistress's  lover.  No 
doubt  I  was  a  fool,  because,  according  to  my 
own  standard  of  conduct,  you  were  what  you 
intended  to  be,  and  not  what  you  appeared  to 
the  world.  But  Lizzy  did  not  see  things  like 
that.  In  her  mind  conduct  must  be  as  scrupu- 
lous as  the  thought  which  moved  it.  She  would 
neither  do  wrong,  nor  seem  to  do  it — and,  she 
would  say,  the  maid  at  the  door  was  her  equal 
in  the  world.  That  was  how  she  treated  her, 
as  I  knew  who  had  seen  them  together.     The 

'129 


130  MAINWARING 

servants  in  the  house  knew  all  about  her,  from 
her  own  lips,  and  were  entirely  on  her  side.     It 
was  rather  extraordinary,  I  thought,  how  ex- 
actly Lizzy  kept  the  balance  between  mistress- 
ship  of  the  house  and  companionship  with  her 
maids.     When  Mainwa-ring  was  away,  I  know 
'(for  she  told  me)  that  she  lived  in  the  kitchen 
and  had  her  meals  in  the  servants'  hall.     She 
took  her  share  of  the  housework  too.     She  said 
that  it  kept  her  healthy  and  made  her  happier, 
and  I  have  no  doubt  of  it  at  all.    At  the  same 
time,  so  far  as  I  could  judge,  she  suffered  no 
encroachments.     It  wasn't  to  be  supposed,  for 
instance,  that  she  would  allow  any  discussion 
of  Mainwaring.     That  would  have  been  quite 
against  Lizzy's  ideas,  just  as  it  would  have  been 
to  pretend  herself  other  than  she  was.     Strange, 
contrary,  yet  logical  creature!     So  open  about 
herself,  so  close  about  her  husband! 

All  that  added  to  my  perplexities,  for  it  pre- 
vented my  seeing  her  or  writing  to  her.  And 
quite  as  well,  very  likely,  that  it  did.  By  this 
time  I  didn't  pretend  to  myself  that  I  wasn't 
in  love  with  her,  nor  that  (if  such  a  thing  could 
happen)  I  shouldn't  be  only  too  happy  that  she 
should  have  left  Mainwaring  altogether.  I 
didn't  work  it  out  in  any  detail,  or  I  should  have 


LADY  WHITEHAVEN  IN  WOE     131 

seen  at  once  that  that  would  only  have  added 
to  our  discomfort.  She  wouldn't  have  come 
to  me  because  she  had  left  him,  bless  you !  She 
would  have  gone  home  and  kept  herself  by  her 
work  of  hands  and  knees.  I  should  have  been 
allowed  to  see  her  and  ache  for  her.  Fine  work 
indeed.  No,  I  see  it  now.  So  long  as  he  didn't 
ill-treat  her  she  was  better  where  she  was.  And 
somehow  I  never  thought  that  he  would  do  that. 
Nor  did  he  ever. 

I  passed  a  pretty  bad  week  of  it,  though,  and 
so,  I  imagine,  did  another  fly  in  Mainwaring's 
web— I  mean  her  Ladyship.  Towards  the  end 
of  it  I  had  a  telegram  signed,  Rose  Whitehaven, 
which  said.  Do  dine  here  tonight  quietly,  which 
I  supposed  to  imply  a  desire  to  pump  me  of  my 
judgment  of  what  had  happened  in  Montagu 
Square.     I  said  that  I  would  go — and  I  went. 

The  house  in  Cavendish  Square  was  vast, 
with  a  faded,  handsome,  French  look.  Great 
hall,  with  marble  pavement  and  statues,  broad 
stone  stair,  white-and-gold  door,  and  a  huge 
drawing-room  with  an  Aubusson  carpet,  silk 
hangings,  gold  chairs  and  all  the  rest  of  it. 
Lady  Whitehaven,  beautifully  dressed,  was  with 
her  pretty,  delicate  Lady  Mary.  They  looked 
like  sisters.    A  son,  Charles,  either  just  leaving 


132  MAINWAKINa 

Eton  or  just  gone  to  Oxford,  slim,  sleek  and 
good-looking,  like  all  her  children ;  a  young  man 
in  the  navy,  called  Vyse,  and  by  them  Dolly ;  a 
Miss  Jeans  or  Jaynes,  fat,  in  eyeglasses,  a  re- 
tainer: that  was  all.  Obviously  I  was  to  be 
pumped  after  dinner. 

She  made  it  go,  of  course.  She  was  perfectly 
delightful,  and  brought  me  into  the  family  in  the 
natural,  easy  way  her  class  has,  and  her  class 
only.  It  was  done  entirely  without  effort,  with 
complete  success.  The  only  thing  obvious 
about  it  was  the  kind  of  appeal  which  her  eyes 
now  and  then  made  to  me  to  play  up  to  her. 
I  could  see,  in  fact,  what  she  asked  of  me :  You 
know  that  I  am  consumed  by  misery ;  you  know 
what  my  life  has  become;  you  know  how  my 
heart  is  torn  to  pieces — well,  won't  you  help? 
There  must  be  pretence  in  a  life  like  mine. 
Good  heavens,  here  are  these  beloved  creatures 
growing  up!  You  don't  mean  me  to  betray 
them,  do  youf  And  yet  I,  their  adored  mother, 
am  in  love  with  one  man  and  persecuted  by  an- 
other, and  simply  don't  know  which  way  to  turn 
for  ease.  You  are  here  to  help  me,  don't  you 
see?    Keep  it  up,  then. 

Well,  I  kept  it  up.    It  wasn't  at  all  difficult, 
with  such  a  lead  as  hers.     Young  Vyse  was 


LADY  WHITEHAVEN  IN  WOE     133 

from  the  Mgean,  which  I  knew  well;  the  boy 
Charles  was  going  up  to  Oxford  in  October; 
Lady  Mary  said  that  she  liked  my  poems,  and 
Miss  Jaynes,  I  believe,  really  did  like  them. 
We  did  very  well  indeed. 

It  was  Lady  Mary  who  brought  up  Mainwar- 
ing.  ^^The  Fenian  '^  they  called  him  in  that 
family.  The  young  woman  evidently  thought 
him  a  hit.  She  knew  he  had  been  in  prison, 
and  might  go  there  again.  I  admitted  it,  and 
told  her  that  I  thought  he  liked  it.  She  con- 
sidered the  answer  and  me  together,  and  then 
said,  '^I  don't  think  you  really  believe  that.  I 
think  you  really  mean  that  you  don't  like  him/' 
The  whole  table  waited  for  me.  I  said,  '*No, 
you  are  wrong.  I  ought  not  to  like  him,  but  I 
really  do."  And  that  was  absolute  truth  on 
my  part. 

Lady  Whitehaven  smiled — a  faint,  rather  wan 
smile.  ^*You  think  him  too  disorganized,  too 
decousu/' 

I  didn't  see  why  I  should  make  any  bones 
about  what  I  really  thought,  so  I  said,  '^No.  If 
anything,  he  is  rather  too  well  organized.  He 
has  a  system,  and  sticks  to  it.  He  is  playing 
rather  a  deep  game." 

She  would  have  led  me  on  from  that,  but  her 


134  MAINWARING 

daughter  broke  in.  She  flushed  up,  and  said 
defiantly,  ^^I  think  he's  splendid.''  Charles 
and  Vyse  both  exclaimed  at  that.  Vyse  un- 
guardedly called  him  an  outsider — but  Charles 
said  quietly,  *^The  worst  of  him  is  that  he's 
not." 

*^No,"  I  said,  **you  are  right.  He  pretends 
to  be,  when  he  thinks  it  necessary — but  he  isn't 
one  at  all,  really.  Nobody  knows  better  than 
Mainwaring  what  he  can  do,  and  what  he  ought 
not." 

Vyse  caught  me  there.  *'You  say  *what  he 
ought  not' — not  *what  he  can't.'  " 

*^No,"  I  admitted,  *^I  don't  think  he  knows 
what  he  can't  do.  I  don't  suppose  he  thinks 
there  is  anything  that  he  can't  do — if  he  wants 
to  do  it." 

Lady  Whitehaven  was  crumbling  her  bread. 
I  saw  how  quickly  she  was  breathing.  Heaven 
help  her,  it  was  a  kind  of  death-warrant — and 
yet  she  loved  to  believe  it.  Young  Lady  Mary, 
high-coloured  and  bright-eyed,  cheered  the  ut- 
terance. 

*^Yes,  I  know,  I  know.  That's  why  I  think 
he's  splendid.  You  might  as  well  call  Napoleon 
an  outsider,"  she  said  to  poor  Vyse. 


LADY  WHITEHAVEN  IN  WOE     135 

''Well/'  said  Vyse,  *'I  expect  he  was.''  She 
lifted  high  her  brows.  What  was  to  be  said  to 
such  an  opinion?  The  talk  drifted  from  Main- 
waring. 

After  dinner  I  perceived  that  I  was  in  for  a 
tete-d-tete;  for  the  young  people  went  away 
about  ten  o'clock  to  a  party  somewhere,  and 
left  me  at  her  ladyship 's  discretion.  It  was  aU 
done  very  simply  and  without  fuss.  She  slid 
into  what  she  wanted  to  be  at  by  saying,  with 
gentle,  sub-malicious  humour — ^^You  and 
Lizzy  Mainwaring  seemed  so  domestic  the  other 
night,  I  was  quite  ashamed  to  disturb  you." 

I  thought  I  had  better  meet  her  quite  half- 
way. '^The  domesticity  was  on  the  surface, 
Lady  Whitehaven.  It  isn't  easy  to  be  domestic 
ia  another  man's  house — and  Lizzy  wouldn't 
allow  it." 

She  took  me  at  once.  ''No,  indeed.  She 
is  a  dear  creature;  but  I  am  sure  she  is  a 
dragon. ' ' 

"She  has  her  ideas,"  I  said;  "and  one  of 
them  is  that,  anyhow,  she  belongs  to  Mainwar- 
iQg.  Handed  over  by  her  father,  at  the  bidding 
of  a  clergyman. ' ' 


136  MAINWARING 

She  bent  her  fair  head.  "Yes,  I  know.  And 
you  would  add  to  that — or  you  might — that 
Mainwaring  in  the  same  way  belongs  to  her. 
It  is  all  very  complicated — '^ 

"If  there  are  complications/^  I  said,  "they 
are  not  of  her  addition.  She  is  not  so  simple 
as  you  think.  She  knows  that  Mainwaring  con- 
siders himself  a  free-lance — or,  rather,  he  is  one 
without  considering  the  matter  at  all.  I  say, 
she  knows  that  is  Mainwaring 's  view  of  himself ; 
but  it  is  not  her  view  of  Mainwaring.'* 

Lady  Whitehaven's  eyes  were  soft  and  dewy. 
I  saw  them  to  be  so  as  she  regarded  me. 

"Does  Lizzy  love  her  husband,  do  you 
think?"     She  asked  me  that. 

I  knew — or  thought  I  did — that  she  did  not, 
but  did  not  see  my  way  to  saying  so.  So  I  an- 
swered that  I  thought  we  were  bound  to  assume 
it.  "Her  conduct,  at  any  rate,  does  not  contra- 
dict that  assumption."  I  did  not  say  that;  it 
was  not  necessary — but  it  was  latent  enough 
in  what  I  did  say  to  make  the  lady  hang  her 
head.  A  pause  followed,  in  which  I  could  see 
that  she  was  about  to  bare  her  bosom  to  any- 
thing I  chose  to  throw  at  it.  And  so  the  poor 
lady  did. 

"As  a  friend  of  Lizzy's  I  fear  you  must 


LADY  WIHTEHAVEN  IN  WOE     137 

think  me  very  wrong;  yet  I  hope  you  will  do 
your  best  to  believe  that  I  am  sincerely  her 
friend  too.  I  find  it  very  difficult — almost  im- 
possible, to  talk  freely  to  her.  We  move  in 
such  different  worlds — she  might  find  it  impos- 
sible even  to  begin  to  understand — to  make, 
shall  I  say?  allowances — "    I  broke  in  there. 

^^I  think  I  may  say  on  Mrs.  Mainwaring's 
account — it  may  save  you  needless  distress — 
that  she  perfectly  well  understands  the  value  of 
your  kindness  to  Mainwaring.  But  she  was,  I 
think,  unprepared  for  it.  When  Mainwaring 
became  interested  in  her,  you  see,  there  was  no 
prospect — at  any  rate  open  to  her — that  he 
would  ever  be  swimming  in  a  stream  where  you 
were  afloat. '^  Lady  Whitehaven  opened  her 
blue  eyes  wide. 

^^Oh,  but  really — Lizzy  must  have  seen  that 
he  was — '' 

*^0f  course  she  did.  She  didn't  want  to 
marry  him  at  all.    But  as  he  insisted — '^ 

She  narrowed  her  eyes  and  nodded  once  or 
twice.  *^I  know— I  know — poor  dear.''  And 
then  she  gave  me  a  full  look.  ^^I  had  not  the 
slightest  idea  that  he  was  married  until  long 
after  I  had  known  him."    I  laughed. 

'*I  don't  suppose  it  occurred  to  him  to  tell 


138  MAINWAKINa 

you.  He  only  told  me  as  an  afterthought — in 
Venice. '  * 

*^It  was  in  Venice  that  he  told  me  about  it/^ 
said  Lady  Whitehaven.  **I  had  seen  a  great 
deal  of  him  all  the  winter  before  we  went  there. 
Of  course  it  surprised  me  very  much ;  and  when 
I  came  to  know  Lizzy — as  I  insisted  on  doing — I 
confess  that  I  began  to  feel  very  uncomfort- 
able. ' '  She  played  with  a  tassel  on  her  sash — 
then  broke  out  again.  **It  is  most  uncomfort- 
able— but  it  is  impossible.  He  is  really — at 
times,  you  know —  That  party  of  his,  for  in- 
stance— **  Then  she  showed  an  imploring 
look.     **Can  you  help  me,  do  you  think?" 

Eeally,  I  didn't  see  how  I  could.  It  was  ob- 
vious that  the  poor  lady  was  more  than  bored. 
She  was  frightened — stiff,  as  we  say  now.  And 
I  don't  wonder  at  it.  The  man  would  stick  at 
nothing. 

I  told  her  that  I  had  no  authority  with  Main- 
waring  at  all,  except  in  so  far  as  I  was  useful 
to  him.  He  knew  that  I  was  fond  of  his  wife, 
and  that  she  considered  me  a  good  friend.  He 
didn't  at  all  mind  that — in  fact,  it  was  useful 
to  him,  a  sort  of  sop  to  his  conscience.  But 
the  moment  he  thought  me  in  his  way  he  would 
cut  me  out  of  his  house  and  conversation.    Our 


LADY  WHITEHAVEN  IN  WOE     139 

acquaintance  was  no  more  than  that,  had 
neither  a  moral  nor  a  sentimental  basis.  The 
notion  that  I  could  stand  between  him  and  his 
aims  could  not  even  be  put  before  him.  All 
that  she  saw,  and  sighed  over  it. 

^*I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  abroad,''  she  said. 
**It  is  a  horrid  bore,  with  Molly  in  her  first  sea- 
son. In  fact,  I  don't  know  that  I  really  can. 
My  husband,  of  course,  never  interferes,  other- 
wise— " 

At  that  moment  a  smashing  double  knock  at 
the  door  made  itself  felt  in  the  great  room  where 
we  sat.  Lady  Whitehaven  put  her  hand  to  her 
side  and  went  quite  white. 

*'A  telegram — "  I  suggested;  but  she  shook 
a  sick  head. 

*^No,  no — it's — "  then  she  gasped  and  held 
out  her  hand  towards  me.  ^^ Don't  go — oh, 
don't  leave  me — I  know  what  it  is — "  So  did 
I,  now. 

^*Go  and  catch  the  man  before  he  answers 
the  door — go  quickly.  Let  him  say  I  am  out. 
Go." 

I  bolted  downstairs,  and  just  caught  the 
porter  putting  on  his  coat. 

*'Her  ladyship  is  not  at  home  to  anybody, 
she  says." 


140  MAINWAEINQ 

^^Very  good,  sir.'' 

I  watched,  so  did  he.  The  knocker  shattered 
against  the  door  again. 

^^ Better  say  she  is  out,''  I  said. 

^*Very  good,  sir." 

As  I  went  upstairs  I  heard  Main  waring  ask 
for  her,  heard  the  reply,  and  him  say,  *' Non- 
sense. Her  ladyship  will  see  me."  The  man 
again  said  something — lied  again,  I  suppose. 
Mainwaring  said,  ^^Then  I'll  wait."  At  that 
moment  I  went  into  the  drawing-room,  and 
saw  her  crouched  against  the  mantelpiece. 
She  gave  me  a  hunted  look. 

*^He  has  been  denied,"  I  said,  ^^but  I  am 
afraid  he  means  to  wait. ' ' 

Dignity  came  back  to  her.  **Then  I  shall 
go  to  bed.  I  am  so  sorry  you  have  been 
disturbed  by  this  mediaeval  scene."  She  rang 
the  bell,  and  we  both  waited  until  the  footman 
came  in.  ''Tell  Chambers  I  am  going  upstairs, 
please."  He  bowed  himself  away.  She  held 
out  her  hand.  ' '  You  have  been  more  than  kind. 
Tell  Lizzy  that  I  am  coming  to  see  her.  Go 
there  tomorrow,  if  you  can.  I  am  sure  you  will 
deal  with  him  for  me  if  you  find  him  down- 
stairs." I  opened  the  door  for  her  and  saw 
her  upstairs.     Then  I  went  down.    Mainwaring 


LADY  WHITEHAVEN  IN  WOE     141 

was  not  in  the  hall,  or  apparently  in  the  house. 
The  porter  let  me  out,  and  there,  sure  enough, 
on  the  pavement,  I  saw  him — looking  gigantic 
in  the  misty  lamplight.  He  was  in  black,  with 
his  overcoat  collar  up  to  his  ears;  a  crush  hat 
on  the  back  of  his  head.  He  didn't  see  me  until 
I  spoke  to  him — then  he  jumped  like  a  stung 
horse. 

^^Hulloa,  Mainwaring, ' '  I  said,  *^what  on 
earth  are  you  doing  here!  Is  your  wife  at  a 
party — or  anybody's  wifef 

He  was  really  disconcerted  this  time.  ^^No, 
no — nothing  of  that  sort.  I  have  been  dining 
out,  and  walked  home  with  a  man  here.''  He 
recovered  himself,  and  his  suspicions  awoke. 
**And  you — w^here  have  you  been?" 

*^I  have  been  dining  with  the  Whitehavens, 
your  friends."  I  saw  him  staring,  and  if  it 
had  been  light  enough  could  have  seen  down  his 
throat.  ^^Her  ladyship  has  gone  to  bed  with 
a  headache.  Some  brute  with  a  telegram  came 
clamouring  at  the  door,  and  probably  woke  her 
up.     Whitehaven  wanted  to  shoot  him." 

That  was  a  risky  one  of  mine.  I  wondered 
if  Mainwaring  knew  that  Lord  Whitehaven  was 
in  Paris.    Apparently  he  did  not. 

**  Those  chaps  think  themselves  messengers 


142  MAINWAEING 

of  the  gods/'  he  said.  ''As  indeed  they  are.'* 
He  stood  where  he  was,  and  I  with  him,  for  a 
time:  then  he  seemed  to  give  in  all  at  once,  as 
if  he  believed  me.  I  saw  him  look  up  at  the 
second  floor  of  the  Whitehaven  place.  Perhaps 
he  saw  a  light  in  her  room. 

*'Well,"  he  said,  '*I  believe  I'll  go  to  bed.  I 
have  talked  too  much  and  drunk  too  much  for 
comfort— and  I  go  to  Jarrow  tomorrow."  We 
turned  to  leave  the  Square. 

' '  Strike-meeting ! "  I  asked  him.  ' '  Or  strike- 
breaking?" 

''I  shall  be  able  to  tell  you  when  I  get  there," 
he  told  me.  ' '  But,  by  God,  if  I  'm  not  very  much 
out,  I'll  break  more  than  a  strike  this  time." 

He  wouldn't  say  any  more,  but  hailed  the 
first  cab  we  saw,  and  got  in.  I  heard  him  give 
Montagu  Square  before  I  left  the  pavement. 
*'Tell  Lizzy  that  I  shall  call  tomorrow  morn- 
ing, ' '  I  said.    He  waved  his  hand. 


XI 

LIZZY  IN"  PKINT 

HAVING-  doubly  plugged  my  conscience, 
first  by  Lady  Whitehaven's  bidding, 
next  by  due  notice  to  Mainwaring,  I  went  off  at 
half-past  ten  in  the  morning  to  see  Lizzy. 
What  should  be  done  with  her  when  I  saw  her  I 
left  to  Providence,  which  (in  a  particular  de- 
partment) is  supposed  to  laugh  at  locksmiths. 
I  wanted  to  see  her  so  much  that  the  mere  reali- 
zation that  in  twenty,  in  fifteen,  in  ten  minutes  I 
really  should  made  my  heart  beat  like  a  mill- 
wheel.  I  rode  on  the  top  of  an  omnibus;  the 
sun  was  shining  on  old  house-fronts  and  shin- 
ing pavements.  It  seemed  to  me  that  every 
other  woman  I  saw  was  a  beauty — and  then  I 
remembered  Lizzy,  and  laughed  at  such  opti- 
mism. 

For  all  that  and  all  that,  I  didn't  know  what 
earthly  advice  to  give  her.  The  substantial 
thing  to  remember  was  that  the  man  did  not  ill- 
treat  her.  It  was  not  ill-treatment  of  her  that 
he  was  making  a  fool  of  himself  and  of  another 

143 


1^4  MAINWARING 

woman,  if  Lizzy  didn't  mind.  And  if  she  didn't 
love  him,  I  couldn't  believe  that  she  did  mind. 
I  was  certain  that  she  had  not  a  pennyweight 
of  vanity  in  her  beautiful  mind.  There  was 
no  spretae  injuria  formae  to  be  feared,  legiti- 
mate as  such  a  grief  would  be  in  any  woman. 
But  Lizzy  had  not  married  Main  waring  for 
love,  and  had  been  bored  rather  than  flattered 
by  the  whole  affair.  The  one  thing  she  had 
taken  dreadfully  to  heart  was  the  death  of  her 
baby,  and  the  one  thing  that  kept  her  with  Main- 
waring  now,  I  don't  doubt,  was  the  chance  of 
getting  another.  I  knew  absolutely  nothing 
about  that  sort  of  thing — but  now  that  I  can 
afford  to  think  it  over,  I  am  sure  that  in  my 
inmost  mind  I  didn't  believe  that  he  lived  with 
her.  In  that  I  may  have  been  wrong — but  that 
was  at  the  back  of  my  mind  in  those  days.  And 
I'll  say  another  thing  in  my  own  justification. 
If  I  ever  thought  of  Lizzy — then — as  Mainwar- 
ing's  wife,  and  of  what  that  involved,  it  gave 
me  no  distress.  That  she  should  yield  herself 
to  a  man  who  loved  another  woman  at  least  as 
much  as  he  loved  her  (probably  a  great  deal 
more),  yield  herself,  because  she  had  contracted 
to  do  so,  seemed  to  me  a  beautiful  act  of  humil- 
ity, a  condescension  which  could  only  be  paral- 


LIZZY  IN  PEINT  145 

leled  by  the  divine  and  tragic  act  of  condescen- 
sion— the  supreme  sacrifice.  The  unco  pious 
may  be  scandalized — but  wrongly.  One  can  but 
sacrifice  the  utmost  one  has — and  what  has  a 
woman  to  offer  but  her  heart  in  her  body,  or 
(if  you  hke)  her  body  in  her  heart?  And  if  she 
sacrifice  body  without  heart,  the  greater  may  be 
the  oblation.     But  all  this  is  by  the  way. 

She  opened  the  door  to  -me  herself — there, 
glowing,  she  stood,  in  apron  and  print  go^vn,  a 
white  cap,  like  a  crescent  moon,  in  her  hair. 
She  looked  so  beautiful,  blushing  and  confused 
as  she  was,  that  I  nearly  lost  my  senses.  *  ^  Oh, 
Lizzy,  to  meet  you  like  this,  in  your  own  house !" 
I  didn  't  know  what  I  was  saying. 

She  laughed — that  is,  her  eyes  laughed. 
**You  ought  not  to  mind.  It  will  be  the  first 
time  you  have  seen  me  happy  in  it.''  It  was 
obviously  true  that  she  was  happy. 

*'If  it  is  your  happiness  that  makes  you  look 
like  a  rose,  I  am  ready  to  give  thanks  for  it, 
however  you  get  it."  I  don't  think  that  I  had 
ever  told  her  before  that  she  was  beautiful.  I 
was  rather  shocked  with  myself  directly  I  had 
said  it — but  she  took  it  quite  calmly. 

We  went  into  her  sitting-room  below-stairs — 
the  housekeeper's  room — and  she  told  me  all 


146  MAINWAEING 

about  it.  It  had  really  been  settled  on  the  day 
of  the  dinner-party,  and  was  begun  the  day 
after  it.  Main  waring  had  made  no  objection 
whatever.  The  other  women  in  the  house  were 
friends  of  Lizzy's — the  cook,  indeed,  had  been 
cook  in  the  house  from  which  she  had  been 
taken  to  be  married.  Lizzy  had  been  house- 
maid there.  Now — in  her  husband's  house,  she 
was  parlourmaid,  and  a  friend  of  hers,  Elsie 
by  name,  was  housemaid.  There  had  been  no 
trouble  at  all,  she  said,  and  she  was  '^  another 
girP'  since  she  had  done  it.  It  was  a  strange 
thing  to  me — but  it  ought  not  to  have  been. 
What  happened  when  Mainwaring  was  at  home 
without  company  I  Did  she  have  breakfast  with 
him?  She  shook  her  head.  ^^No,  I  have  all  my 
meals  with  the  others.  They  would  be  hurt  if 
I  didn't — and  I  prefer  it  myself." 

^^Then  he  never  sees  you  at  aU,  except  as  a 
maid ! ' ' 

She  did  not  flinch.  **He  can  when  he  wants 
to,  of  course." 

^^I  meant  that  there  must  be  lots  of  things  to 
consult  you  about.  His  plans,  for  instance,  his 
work,  his  letters — ^you  can't  be  dropped  out  of 
his  daily  concerns — even  if  you  both  wished  it. ' ' 

That  also  she  took  very  simply.    *^0h,  no. 


LIZZY  IN  PEINT  147 

He  shows  me  any  letters  he  chooses — and  some- 
times asks  me  what  I  think.  Then  I  tell  him. 
Sometimes  he  tells  me  what  he  has  said  or 
done  in  the  House — or  where  he  had  dined — or 
whom  he  has  met.  I  know  that  he  met  you  last 
night,  for  instance.    He  told  me  that. '  ^ 

*  *  Did  he  tell  you  where  he  had  met  me  T ' 

She  raised  her  eyebrows.  ^^No.  I  guessed 
that.'' 

Then  I  told  her  from  point  to  point  every- 
thing that  had  happened  overnight.  She  heard 
me  out  without  a  sign.  It  was  evident  that  her 
native  fatalism  was  helping  her.  If  not  that, 
then  it  must  be  that  she  did  not  care.  When  I 
had  done,  as  she  said  nothing,  but  sat  with 
her  cheek  in  her  hand,  fixedly  looking  at  her 
lap,  I  began  again. 

**  Lizzy,  it  is  plain  to  me  that  Lady  White- 
haven is  miserable  about  all  this,  and  won't  be 
able  to  stand  a  renewal  of  the  scene  in  this  room. 
It  is  true  that  she  brought  it  all  on  herself. 
One  doesn't  need  to  tell  her  that.  She  knows 
it.  All  she  has  to  say  is,  as  I  told  you,  that 
when  she  encouraged  Mainwaring  she  didn't 
know  that  he  was  married.  When  she  knew 
that  it  was  too  late.  Now,  I  don't  see  why  you 
should  go  out  of  your  way  to  get  her  out  of  her 


148  MAINWARINa 

trouble,  except  for  one  reason — that  it  would 
perhaps  get  you  out  of  trouble  too.  If  I  may 
say  so,  I  can't  bear  to  think  that  I  may  see  you 
insulted  again  as  you  were  that  night." 

She  looked  up  at  me — quickly,  and  then  looked 
to  her  lap  again.  ^  ^  I  don 't  think  he  knew  he  was 
insulting  me. ' ' 

'*No,  indeed,''  I  broke  out,  ''I  don't  suppose 
it  entered  his  head." 

^^I  was  much  more  sorry  for  her  than  I  was 
for  myself,"  she  went  on.  ^^You  see,  I  know 
him,  and  she  doesn't.  I  know  that  in  many 
things  he  is  a  child.  He  sees  a  thing,  and  he 
wants  it.  If  he  can't  get  it  he  makes  a  fuss. 
I  have  thought  sometimes  of  leaving  him  for  a 
time,"  she  went  on,  clasping  her  hands  round 
her  knee.  *  'I  think  it  very  likely  he  would  come 
for  me  by-and-by;  and  if  he  did  I  could  make 
some  sort  of  terms  for  myself.  But  if  he 
didn't  I  know  that  he  would  destroy  himself 
and  her  too.  So  I  don't  think  about  it.  I 
know  that  he  won't  destroy  me— and  now  that 
I  have  settled  my  place  here  I  am  as  happy  as 
I  can  expect  to  be.  It  is  money  that  worries 
me.  You  know  what  I  think  about  that.  I  be- 
long to  people  who  have  never  been  in  debt — 
and  now  we  are  deep  in  debt.    I  don't  know 


LIZZY  IN  PEINT  149 

what  he  owes — but  it  is  so  much  that  I  am  sure 
the  tradesmen  won't  supply  us  much  longer. 
He  takes  money  from  his  great  friends — and 
I  can't  tell  you  how  I  hate  it.  But  I  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  it.  He  pays  me  like  a  servant, 
and  pays  the  other  girls  here — and  I  don't 
know,  any  more  than  you  do,  where  he  gets  the 
money  from.  He  is  on  a  wrong  road — he  is  not 
doing  what  he  promised  to  do — he  has  deceived 
me  about  that.  Oh,"  she  cried  out  sharply,  as 
if  she  was  hurt,  **I  hate  it,  I  hate  it.  I  was 
brought  up  so  good,  and  now  I  am  a  liar.  That 
is  much  worse  than  the  other  thing.  It  is  noth- 
ing to  me  what  he  does  with  other  women.  I 
am  ready  to  do  my  duty — as  a  wife  or  a  mother, 
if  I  get  a  chance.  The  rest  of  it  seems  to  me  to 
be  his  own  business,  not  mine.  He  took  me  be- 
cause he  talked  my  mother  over — I  knew  he  was 
a  gentleman — but  he  told  me  he  couldn't  live 
without  me — and  that  he  had  given  up  his  life 
to  helping  working-people.  The  least  I  could 
do,  he  said,  was  to  stand  in  with  him.  Well, 
and  I  did— and  now  he  is  going  back  to  his  own 
set,  and  all  I  am  allowed  to  do  for  him  is  to  be 
his  parlourmaid.  If  he  had  lived  as  he  was 
when  I  first  knew  him — on  thirty  shillings  a 
week— I  would  have  worked  myself  to  the  bone 


150  MAINWARING 

for  him  and  my  baby.  But  baby  died  because 
I  couldn^t  nurse  him  properly — and  I  shan't 
have  another.  I  sometimes  wish  I  had  died  too 
—  *'  She  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  sobbed 
once  or  twice.  *  ^  My  dear,  my  dear, ' '  was  all  I 
could  say.    I  dared  not  touch  her. 

Presently  she  wiped  her  eyes,  and  smiled 
faintly.  ^*I  know  you  don't  think  me  silly.  It 
does  me  good  to  tell  you  my  troubles,  and  to 
cry  about  them.  Do  you  know  I  have  never  told 
anybody  but  you  anything  about  it  1  And  I  be- 
gan to  tell  you,  I  don't  know  how  long  ago.'' 
She  gave  me  her  hand,  and  I  kissed  it.  I  was 
too  much  moved  to  speak. 

** Lizzy,"  I  said  presently,  **you  are  a  noble 
girl.  I  shan't  say  that  there's  no  one  like  you, 
because  I  believe  that  there  are  a  thousand 
women  like  you.  I  would  like  to  believe  that 
there  were  three  men  in  this  town  so  clear- 
headed and  honourable.  But  that  isn  't  the  way 
of  men,  and  perhaps  not  what  they  are  here  for. 
Anyhow,  you  have  convinced  me  that  you  are 
right  to  stay  here,  and  right  to  act  as  you  do — 
until,  Lizzy,  imtil,  my  dear,  you  can  act  better." 

She  asked  me  what  I  meant.  I  told  her.  I 
said  that  however  it  was  that  Mainwaring  fell 
in  love  with  her — which  I  didn  't  wonder  at  at  all 


LIZZY  IN  PEINT  151 

— ^it  was  plain  that  love  could  never  hinder  his 
destiny.  It  was  his  destiny  to  rise,  and  to  rise 
in  politics.  All  his  ability,  passion,  wit,  read- 
ing, powers  of  mind  would  be  bent  by  his  na- 
ture to  the  fulfilling  of  that  destiny.  Might  it 
not  be  her  business  to  keep  pace  with  him,  or 
to  try  to  keep  pace?  ** Instead  of  giving  it  aU 
up,  my  dear,  and  contenting  yourself  with  do- 
ing his  housework,  couldn  't  you  sit  at  his  table, 
receive  his  guests,  and  mix  with  his  world? 
You  are  shy  about  beginning — but  if  you  want 
to  keep  him,  I  ^m  not  sure  that  there  is  any  other 
way  of  doing  it. ' ' 

I  had  seen  signs  of  storm  in  the  concentra- 
tion of  her  pupils,  in  her  lips  pressed  together, 
and  rising  colour — but  I  finished  what  I  had 
to  say;  and  then  I  added,  ^^ Don't  do  it  to  please 
me,  you  know.  I  prefer  you  infinitely  as  you 
are — but  I  think  that  he  might  like  you  better 
if  you  went  into  the  world  with  him.''  Then 
she  lifted  her  head,  and  I  saw  her  eyes  grown 
cold  and  hard,  like  winter  stars." 

**I  will  never  go  into  that  world.  It  is  hate- 
ful to  me.  I  think  it  horrible.  I  would  rather 
be  on  the  streets  than  like  Lady  Whitehaven. 
I'll  die  if  I  can't  be  honest. "  Her  arms  moved, 
as  if  she  would  hold  them  out  to  me — her  lips 


152  MAINWAEING 

trembled— her  eyes  filled.  ''Don't — oh,  don't 
ask  me  to  do  it.    Indeed  I  couldn  't. ' ' 

I  shook  my  head.  ''Never  more,  my  dear, 
I  was  wrong.  Be  yourself — I  ask  nothing  bet- 
ter in  the  world  than  you  as  you  are." 

She  thanked  me,  and  wiped  her  tears  away. 
I  felt  a  brute,  though  in  all  I  said  I  had  been 
working  against  myself. 

After  that  I  took  a  lighter  tone  altogether, 
and  got  her  at  her  ease.  How  far,  for  instance, 
did  she  think  herself  in  service?  Oh,  she  said, 
all  the  way  in.  "What,  did  she  have  an  after- 
noon off!  She  nodded,  smiling.  Well,  then; 
would  she  allow  me  to  walk  out  with  her  I  Smil- 
ing and  blushing,  yes,  indeed,  she  would. 
"When  was  it?  It  was  tomorrow.  All  right. 
I  would  be  in  the  Square  at  three  o'clock,  and 
we  would  go  to  Kew  Gardens.  Her  whole  face 
lighted.     She  simply  radiated  beauty. 

"I  have  never  been  there.  I  shall  love  it. 
And — and — "  She  hesitated,  and  seemed  to 
ask  boldness  from  me. 

"W^ell,  my  dear—?" 

"Will  you  please  to  bring  a  book  in  your 
pocket!" 

"A  book,  Lizzy?    What  kind  of  book?" 

She    stayed    again.     She    looked    as    if    she 


LIZZY  IN  PEINT  153 

thonght  I  wasn't  going  to  believe  her.  ^^I 
should  like  a  poetry  book." 

May  I  be  forgiven!  I  don't  know  that  I  did 
believe  her.  ^^Are  you  sure  you  want  that? 
I'll  tell  you  why  I  ask  you.  I  love  poetry  my- 
self, and  love  reading  poetry  aloud — but  only 
if  I  am  sure  the  person  who  hears  me  likes  to 
hear  it.  Now,  people  who  don't  like  poetry 
don't  like  it  at  all.    Do  you  seel" 

She  listened  with  lowered  eyelids.  ^^  Please 
bring  one.  I  promise  to  tell  you  if  I  don't  like 
it."    Agreed.    I  promised. 

She  came  with  me  to  the  door,  the  beautiful, 
gentle,  simple  creature  that  she  was,  gave  me 
her  true  hand,  and  stood  within  the  threshold, 
smiling  me  away.  I  went  home — to  call  it  so 
for  want  of  a  better  word — with  my  heart  melt- 
ing in  my  breast.  Much  as  I  know  of  love,  now 
in  my  age,  much  more  as  I  know  of  its  heights 
and  deeps,  I  am  sure  that  no  man  of  more  ex- 
alted or  purer  passion  walked  up  Oxford 
Street  that  day. 


xn 

UNDBE   THE  BLOSSOM 

I  AM  tempted  to  linger  over  these  few  days  of 
a  happy  summer — as  what  man  would  not 
be,  who  is  a  lover  still?  But  I  can  only  record 
that  beginning,  and  must  then  leave  it  for  other 
things,  elements  of  labour  and  sorrow  which, 
though  we  chose  to  disregard  them,  even  then 
were  edging  it  in.  At  all  hazards,  however,  I 
must  remark  upon  the  first  outing  we  two  had 
ever  had.  The  anticipation  of  it,  the  promise 
of  a  clear  sky,  the  sun,  the  kindly  west  wind  had 
wrought  their  magic  upon  my  dear  girl's  looks. 
She  sparkled  and  gleamed  like  a  summer's 
morning.  I  saw  it  all  latent  in  her  before  she 
was  within  speaking  distance,  noticing  the  light- 
ness of  her  step  as  she  came  to  meet  me.  She 
moved,  as  she  always  did,  with  that  swimming 
gait  which  tall  women  often  have  (as  the  poets 
have  observed) ;  but  there  was  added  now  a 
buoyant  breasting  of  the  air,  as  if  she  felt  the 
crisping  waves  prick  her  into  enhanced  life. 
She  had  dressed  herseK  in  white,  as  suited  so 

154 


UNDER  THE  BLOSSOM  155 

fine  a  day,  with  May  about  to  wed  June.  She 
had  a  black  hat  and  feather,  a  black  sash  at  her 
waist,  as  women  did  in  that  day,  and  do  still 
if  they  know  what  they  are  about.  ^^I  hope  you 
feel  what  you  show,  Lizzy."  That  made  her 
blush.  ^'I  feel  what  I  ought,"  she  said,  *'on 
such  a  day  as  this."  ^^Oh,  my  dear,"  I  said — 
^Sve  are  going  to  be  happy."     She  sighed. 

So  we  set  off,  all  our  cares  left  behind,  and 
not  even  the  dinginess  of  the  Underground 
tarnished  our  hopes.  All  this  happened  before 
the  time  of  tramways ;  before  the  top  of  an  om- 
nibus was  feasible  for  ladies.  Eighteen-eighty- 
odd!  I  remember  that  I  proposed  a  hansom, 
being  of  that  manly  age  when  the  spending  of 
money  is  the  natural  outlet  of  happy  youth,  and 
that  she  begged  me  not.  She  said  that  it  was 
extravagant;  but  her  real  objection  was  that  it 
would  put  her  out  of  focus.  She  had  taken  her 
definite  place  in  the  scale  of  class,  and  her  con- 
sidered place.  She  could  be  happy  in  it,  and 
only  happy  there.  Mainwaring  had  forced  her 
into  a  false  position:  she  did  not  intend  that  I 
should  do  the  same.  She  acted  as  much  for  my 
good  as  for  her  o\\ti,  and  I  see  now  that  she  was 
wise. 

So  we  travelled  third-class  on  the  Under- 


156  MAINWARING 

ground — and  were  entirely  happy.  *^Do  you 
know, '  ^  she  said — we  were  alone  in  the  compart- 
ment— '^this  is  the  first  time  I  have  been  out  of 
London  since  I  came  to  itT' 

^^My  poor  girl/^  I  began — ^but  she  laughed  at 
me. 

*  *  That  shows  you  what  I  am ! ' ' 

*'It  shows  me  what  I  am,  too,  Lizzy.  But  I'll 
deserve  you  yet.^'  She  was  thinking  of  some- 
thing else. 

^'I'm  glad  now  that  I  saved  it  up.  I  have 
been  all  this  time  getting  ready.'' 

I  said  to  her,  ^^But  now  you  have  gone  back 
to  service  again,  you  will  get  your  yearly  holi- 
day, I  suppose?" 

She  opened  her  eyes,  rounding  them — *^0h, 
of  course  I  shall  take  that. "  Then  she  went  on, 
**I  might  go  at  any  time,  now  that  he  is  in  the 
North.  He  told  me  so.  I  ought  to  go  home 
for  a  few  days.  I  haven't  seen  Mother  for  two 
years." 

*^Now  is  your  time,  then."  She  looked  at 
me  for  a  moment,  fully,  seriously,  then  turned 
away.    ^  ^  I  '11  go  presently. ' ' 

Everything  was  new  to  her.  It  was  like  a 
voyage,  and  became  so  to  me  who  had  travelled 
Europe  and  Asia  Minor.     She  loved  the  river 


UNDER  THE  BLOSSOM  157 

at  Hammer smitli,  and  the  glimpses  of  little  staid 
old  houses  on  the  Mall.  ''I  could  be  happy  in 
one  of  those  little  houses;"  she  said,  '4f — '' 

^'Oh,  Lizzy/'  I  sighed,  *^ could  you  not  be 
happy  in  any  little  house,  or  big  house,  if — T' 

She  nodded  quickly,  still  straining  back  to 
catch  the  last  of  them  and  of  the  windy  water. 
Then  she  turned  to  me.  ' '  Yes,  I  daresay.  But 
not  in  a  big  house.  The  happier  I  was  the  less 
I  would  choose  a  big  house.''  She  puzzled  it, 
out.  ''In  a  big  house,  you  see,  you  might  easily 
get  lost." 

I  suppose  I  frowned  over  that,  for  she  grew 
eager.  ' '  Oh,  don 't  you  see  ?  We  might  have  to 
be  so  far  away  from  each  other."  Yes,  I  saw 
that.  It  made  me  feel  that  indeed  we  were  so 
— and  at  this  moment  in  a  fool's  paradise.  But 
I  put  that  away  from  me.  Here  we  were,  and 
vogite  la  galere!  Meantime  we  reached  our  sta- 
tion. 

Lizzy 's  eyes  had  not  been  educated  to  the  com- 
plexities of  art.  She  neither  knew  how  to  see, 
nor  that  she  saw.  She  could  appreciate  detail, 
but  not  mass.  Therefore  the  blended  fire  of  the 
azaleas  did  not  affect  her,  nor  the  feathery 
plumes  of  the  bamboos;  but  she  went  into  soft 
ecstasies  over  a  white  fritillary  self  sown  in  a 


158  MAINWAEINQ 

corner  of  the  rock-garden.  She  saw  how  it 
hung  in  air,  called  it  a  fairy  thimble,  and  loved 
it.  She  had  no  fine  words  for  it,  either.  I  had 
to  read  her  quiet  pleasure  in  her  face.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  she  was  taking  in  sight  as  a 
dog  gets  scent.  She  inhaled  the  ordered  spaces, 
vistas,  masses  and  groupings  of  the  grassy 
place,  all  golden  as  they  were  in  young  leaves. 
She  breathed  them  like  fresh  air,  and  was  visibly 
the  better  for  them.  The  glasshouses  of  orchids 
and  other  wonders  did  not  amuse  her.  For  the 
orchids  particularly  she  showed  distaste.  Her 
fine  nostrils  dilated,  her  short  lip  curved  up- 
wards, as  if  the  bow  was  on  a  stretch.  ''They 
are  like  creatures.  They  seem  to  be  wicked  be- 
fore your  face — as  if  they  didn't  care  what  you 
saw. ' '  That  was  as  near  as  she  could  get.  Her 
eyes  sought  the  door,  and  the  green,  faint  behind 
the  misted  glass.  At  last  she  said,  ''I  don't 
like  this  much.     Let's  get  into  the  sun  again." 

When  we  had  seen  the  lions  of  the  place  she 
was  all  for  sitting  down.  ''I  should  like  to  sit 
still,  and  you  to  read  to  me.  Did  you  bring  a 
book,  as  I  asked  you?" 

''Of  course  I  did.  You  shall  stop  me  when 
you  don't  like  it."     She  lifted  that  off  as  non- 


UNDER  THE  BLOSSOM  159 

sensical  lumber  by  throwing  up  her  chin.  I 
saw  my  folly  drop  behind  her. 

I  found  a  quiet  place  for  her  under  some 
ilexes,  in  view  of  the  lake.  There  we  sat,  and 
Lizzy  disposed  herself  to  listen,  crossing  one 
leg,  nursing  her  cheek  in  her  hand.  She  some- 
times danced  the  suspended  foot.  Her  eyes,  so 
far  as  I  could  see,  never  wandered.  Whenever 
I  glanced  at  her,  she  was  looking  vaguely  at  the 
ground,  but  was  intensely  aware  both  of  what 
was  being  said  and  of  the  situation.  She  said 
very  little,  and  exactly  what  she  felt — which  was 
so  like  her.  She  was  of  all  people  I  have  kno^^ni 
the  least  insincere.  I  am  sure  she  would  much 
rather  have  appeared  stupid  than  pretended  to 
sensibility. 

I  was  armed  with  the  Golden  Treasury,  and 
had  made  a  selection  overnight.  There  are 
tales  in  that  anthology,  which  I  had  judged 
would  please  her  most;  and  I  began  with  the 
simplest  of  all  of  them,  Lucy  Gray.  I  took  the 
trouble  to  school  my  voice  to  a  low  level,  read- 
ing without  expression,  but  very  distinctly,  as 
if  it  had  been  a  police  report  of  the  child's 
disappearance — say,  before  the  Coroner.  I 
don 't  know  any  other  way  of  giving  good  poetry 


160  MAINWARING 

a  chance — for  bad  poetry  you  may  need  a 
fashionable  actor.  But  Lucy  Gray  is  good 
poetry. 

Evidently — as  I  could  judge  by  the  light  in 
Lizzy's  eyes — she  was  enormously  relieved  to 
find  that  she  had  followed  every  stave  of  the 
pretty  story!  Was  that  poetry?  And  I  liked 
that!  Why,  and  so  did  she!  But  that  was 
guesswork  of  mine :  I  remember  her  comment  on 
Lucy  Gray.  She  confessed  the  sadness  of  it — 
**but  somehow  you  can  bear  it.  You  can  see 
that  it  had  to  be  so.''  Then  she  added,  *'Poor 
child — perhaps,  if  she  hadn't  died,  she  would 
have  been  unhappy  later  on."  We  had  a  little 
talk  about  it,  and  I  was  touched  to  find  that  she 
spoke  of  Lucy  Gray  as  if  she  was  a  real  person. 
So  she  was,  of  course — but  that  is  not  my  point. 

After  that  I  read  Poor  Susan,  and  The  Daf- 
fodils, and  then  The  Cuckoo.  She  liked  the  last 
best.  I  went  back  then  to  Helen  of  Kirkconnell, 
and  Willie  Drowned  in  Yarrow — but  she  had 
nothing  to  say  to  either  of  them.  I  gave  her 
'^Jack  and  Joan  they  think  no  ill";  the  Elegy, 
and  finally  Auld  Robin  Gray.  That  brought  the 
tears  to  her  eyes,  as  indeed  it  had  to  mine.  I 
asked  her  if  it  hurt.  She  said,  *^No,  no.  I  like 
it.    It  is  beautiful.    It  does  me  good."    And 


UNDER  THE  BLOSSOM  161 

then  slie  asked  me  to  read  it  again,  ^'but 
slower."  "When  it  was  done,  she  drooped  her 
chin  towards  her  breast.  ^ '  Life 's  just  like  that. 
But  it  can  still  be  beautiful.''  I  read  her  some 
more  ambitious  things — The  Scholar  Gypsy  was 
one,  and  The  Forsaken  Merman  another.  Then 
I  stopped,  and  she  thanked  me  with  a  pretty 
gesture  of  confidence  which  was  almost  a  caress 
— the  wraith,  you  may  say,  of  a  caress.  ^^Now 
I  know,"  she  said,  ''that  I  like  something  that 
you  like." 

''You  like  lots  of  things  that  I  like,"  I  told 
her.  "I  don't  believe  you  like  anything  that  I 
don't  like." 

"Will  you  lend  me  the  book  now?" 

"My  dear,  I'll  give  it  you,  if  you  will  ac- 
cept it." 

She  took  it,  and  looked  to  see  if  it  had  my 
name  in  it.  It  had  not.  "Write  my  name  in 
it,  please,  and  the  date."  That  was  done.  I 
said,  "I'll  carry  it  for  you  till  I  leave  you." 
But  she  wanted  to  carry  it  herself,  and  I  saw 
it  closed  against  her  breast. 

We  had  tea  in  one  of  the  little  houses  on  Kew 
Green,  and  walked  homewards  in  the  golden 
afternoon  light,  on  the  river  bank.  I  never  saw 
her  tired  in  those  days;  but  a  veil  of  sadness 


162  MAINWAKING 

came  over  her,  and  came  between  us,  which  we 
each  made  efforts  to  rend.  She  said — it  was 
one  of  her  efforts— ''Well,  IVe  had  today,  at 
any  rate.     I  expect  I  shall  be  glad  of  it,  often.'' 

''Only  the  afternoon,  Lizzy." 

''No,  no,"  she  said;  "all  day.  I  had  all  the 
morning  to  think  of  it."  Then  she  sighed,  and 
her  head  drooped.  "After  all,  we  are  only  pre- 
tending, aren  't  we  ? " 

"Oh,  my  dear,  you  don't  believe  that.  You 
believe  that  I  'm  a  humbug. ' ' 

She  was  wide-eyed  and  all  alert.  ' '  Oh,  no,  no, 
no.  You  don't  understand.  I  mean  that  we 
might— that  it  might  have  been  different  if— 
Oh,  but  I  don't  know." 

' '  If  we  had  met  before  ?—  Ah,  Lizzy. ' '  She 
was  now  mighty  serious. 

"Do  you  think  that  it  ever  answers — with 
people  so  different  as  you  and  If" 

I  told  her  that  I  didn't  think  the  difference 
need  matter  a  straw  if  there  were  resemblances 
underneath.  I  believed  it,  and  I  still  believe  it. 
If  the  differences  are  superficial — as  those 
which  she  was  thinking  of  certainly  were — they 
can 't  prevail  against  affinities  such  as  I  saw  be- 
tween myself  and  this  beautiful  girl.  It  is  the 
elementals  which  count  in  the  long  run. 


UNDER  THE  BLOSSOM  163 

So  I  told  her,  and  gave  her  to  understand 
that  I  loved  her.  She  heard  that  quietly,  with- 
out any  demonstration  or  without  revealing  the 
state  of  her  own  heart.  I  understood  that  that 
would  have  been  against  her  instinct  and  moral 
code. 

But  when  she  presently  said  that,  in  that 
case,  she  thought  that  we  ought  not  to  meet,  I 
had  to  fight  for  my  own  hand— or  at  any  rate 
so  I  said.  ^' Lizzy,''  I  said,  ^^ can't  you  trust 
me?" 

''Yes,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  ''I  know  that 
— but—"  She  turned  away  her  head.  I 
waited. 

Then  she  said,  ''The  more  beautiful  you  make 
my  life  for  me,  the  harder  it  will  be.  I  have 
done  for  myself,  you  see.  I  have  made  my  bed, 
and  I  must  lie  on  it."  She  drew  to  me,  and 
touched  my  arm.  I  thought  she  would  have 
taken  it,  but  no—  ''We  mustn  't  meet  often— 
not  every  week.  I  can't  do  it— don't  ask  me. 
If  you  will  lend  me  some  books  I  shall  be  very 
grateful.  Will  you  do  that?  Tell  me  what  to 
read — and  I'll  make  myself  better.  I  might  do 
it  by  being  with  you— but  I  must  not.  Shall  it 
be  like  that?" 

I  was  young,  you  sec,  and  awfully  in  love. 


164  MAINWAEING 

No  doubt  I  was  disappointed — but  her  sincerity 
was  beyond  doubt. 

'*  Everything  shall  be  as  you  think  best, 
Lizzy/'  I  told  her.  ^^I  shall  write  to  you  once 
a  week,  and  you  shall  answer  when  you  can, 
and  tell  me  when  I  may  see  you.  I  can't  have 
you  reproaching  yourself.  That  hurts  too 
much.  If  I  can't  make  your  life  happier  I  am 
no  good  to  you.  I  know  I  ought  not  to  have 
said  what  I  did.     But  you  knew  it  quite  well — " 

I  take  credit  to  myself  that  I  didn't  press  her 
on  that  point.  There's  nothing  a  young  lover 
glories  in  so  much  as  a  woman's  confession  that 
she  knows  what's  the  matter  with  him.  I  don't 
know  what  I  thought  could  be  the  upshot  of  all 
this — I  don't  know  that  I  thought  about  that  at 
all.  I  loved  her,  and  that  was  enough  for  me. 
But  if  my  dear  girl  thought — as  she  did — that 
things  were  going  to  be  any  better  for  our  dis- 
comfort, she  was  mistaken. 

I  took  her  to  her  door,  and  left  her  there. 
Her  mood  was  wistful  and  very  tender ;  but  she 
had  herself  under  control.  We  parted  with  a 
hand-clasp;  and  she  was  to  have  her  books  the 
next  day. 

I  may  as  well  record  with  what  she  began  her 
education   in   literature.    I   sent  her   Copper- 


UNDER  THE  BLOSSOM  165 

field  and  Great  Expectations,  and  intended 
to  follow  on  them  with  Sir  Walter  Scott.  As 
for  poetry,  she  should  have  that  through  me 
and  by  voice  and  ear. 


XIII 

MAINWAEING   AND   SIR   JOHTsT 

I  CONFESS,  never  having  been  interested  in 
politics,  except  as  a  part  of  the  expression 
of  life,  I  knew  very  little  what  Mainwaring  was 
doing  at  Jarrow.  So  long  as  he  remained  there 
a  long  time,  I  cared  very  little,  either.  I  was 
not  much  of  a  newspaper-reader,  and  still  less 
of  a  club-man ;  but  it  was  not  possible  to  be  al- 
together ignorant,  and  I  had  gathered  from 
newsbills  and  casual  conversations  that  he  had 
his  enemies  in  the  press.  There  was  one  paper 
in  particular,  perhaps  the  first  of  the  type  with 
which  we  have  become  abundantly  familiar, 
which  seemed  to  have  a  knife  into  him.  That 
was  The  London  Messenger ^  whose  aim  very 
simply  was  to  make  itself  indispensable  in 
everybody's  affairs.  It  was  personal,  it  was 
sensational,  it  stuck  at  nothing.  Having  found 
out  that  bad  news  paid  it  better  than  good  news 
— since  the  public  runs  to  know  the  worst  but 
can  afford  to  wait  for  comfortable  things  until 
a   comfortable   moment,   it   dealt   in   clamour. 

166 


MAINWAEING  AND  SIR  JOHN     167 

When  there  was  no  reality  about  which  to  be 
clamorous,  it  was  not  above  finding  a  substitute. 
In  politics  it  was  high  tory,  with  a  leaning  to 
explosive  patriotism.  Bentivogiio  was  its  hero, 
to  whom  it  owed  the  Empire  of  India,  Peace 
with  Honour,  and  other  filling  phrases  which 
lent  themselves  to  public-house  arguments  and 
Hyde  Park  oratory.  But  The  Messenger  went 
a  great  deal  further  than  that.  It  took  all  pub- 
lic affairs  in  charge,  and  was  the  first  news- 
paper to  send  its  reporters  into  criminal  inves- 
tigation. If  a  murder  occupied  the  public,  the 
Messenger^ s  young  men  made  enquiry  and  re- 
port; if  it  was  a  strike,  they  were  ready  and 
eager  to  compose  it  by  negotiation,  or  by 
threats.  One  Sir  John  Copestake  was  the  pro- 
prietor of  this  print,  and  like  a  great  many  other 
people  he  took  himself  with  great  seriousness, 
and  his  self-appointed  office  also.  It  was  with 
him  and  his  organ  that  Mainwaring  now  found 
himself  embroiled. 

The  Messenger  had  never  left  him  alone  from 
the  time  when  he  first  became  public  property 
in  the  Trafalgar  Square  riot.  Never  a  week 
passed,  after  that,  without  some  reference  to  his 
detriment.  It  was  The  Messenger  which  nick- 
named him  The  Fenian ;  but  his  friends  adopted 


168  MAINWAKING 

that  with  enthusiasm.  In  the  Culgaith  strike 
it  made  a  push  to  have  him  prosecuted  for  con- 
spiracy ;  but  he  was  so  successful  up  there  that 
the  thought  was  abandoned  as  hopeless.  Then 
came  his  election,  which  made  The  Messenger 
foam  at  the  press,  and  since  that  another  Elec- 
tion, a  Liberal  triumph,  and  Main  waring 's  rap- 
prochement with  the  Government.  The  affair 
of  attack  was  greatly  eased  by  that  last  develop- 
ment. With  the  Government  it  would  beat 
'Mainwaring,  with  Mainwaring  the  Government. 
It  made  public  property  at  once  of  the  fact  that 
Mainwaring  had  gone  up  to  Jarrow  on  an  un- 
official mission  from  the  Ministry.  There  were 
government  works  at  Jarrow  which  might  be- 
come involved  in  the  Boilermakers'  strike. 
Mainwaring  was  to  prevent  that.  Now  if  it  be- 
came kno^\^l,  firstly  that  the  Government  chose 
a  notorious  demagogue  to  arbitrate  in  a  trade 
dispute,  or  secondly  that  a  popular  tribune 
went  into  a  labour  trouble  wdth  a  government 
manacle  on  his  leg,  serious  damage  would  be 
done,  or  might  be  done  to  both  parties,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  boilermaking  industry.  The  first 
act,  therefore,  of  The  Messenger's  was  to  pro- 
claim upon  a  bill  '^The  Fenian  as  Strike- 
Breaker,''  and  to  declare  in  a  leading  article 


MAINWAEING  AND  SIR  JOHN     169 

what  Main  waring 's  real  business  at  Jarrow 
was.  Having  established  that  as  a  solid  pillar 
of  fact — solid  because  it  had  been  stated  as  a 
fact  in  a  leading  article — it  proceeded  to  crucify 
Mainwaring  upon  it  day  by  day.  The  Govern- 
ment was  greatly  embarrassed  at  Westminster, 
and  I  don  ^t  doubt  that  Mainwaring  was  at  Jar- 
row.  I  heard  that  he  flatly  denied  his  semi- 
official status — which  Mr.  Hardman  was  incap- 
able of  doing.  More  than  that,  Mainwaring 
promised  that  when  the  strike  was  over  he 
should  have  revelations  to  make  in  his  turn: 
meantime,  he  said,  he  was  not  the  man  to  be 
turned  aside  from  his  duty  by  newspaper  touts. 
The  Jarrow  strike,  therefore,  became  a  side- 
issue  of  another  contest  altogether,  and  the  pub- 
lic, which  cares  little  for  strikes,  and  very  much 
for  dog  fights,  was  highly  excited. 

I  collected  so  much  from  what  I  heard  or  read, 
but  nothing  directly.  Lizzy  knew  nothing, 
either.  Mainwaring  never  wrote  to  her.  His 
letters  were  sent  to  a  private  address — Long- 
waitby  Hall,  Sunderland — from  which  I  saw, 
not  without  amusement,  that  the  day  was  gone 
by  for  sharing  the  people  ^s  miseries.  Main- 
waring now  went  down  as  a  god  from  a  machine. 
I  don't  doubt  that  Lizzy  remarked  on  that,  too. 


170  MAINWAEING 

There  were  few  things  about  Mainwaring  which 
escaped  her.  But  she  said  nothing  about  it — 
indeed,  we  should  never  have  talked  of  him  at 
all  if  he  had  not  been  put  in  our  way  by  other 
people.  Then  it  became  necessary  for  the  poor 
girl  to  do  something — but  I  shall  come  to  that 
presently. 

I  saw  her  at  this  time  about  once  a  fort- 
night, when  I  took  her  out  either  on  a  week-day 
or  a  Sunday,  as  might  suit.  At  other  times  she 
took  one  of  the  maids  in  the  house  as  her  com- 
panion. In  June  she  went  to  her  people  at 
Merrow  for  a  fortnight;  and  during  that  fort- 
night it  happened  that  I  saw  Mainwaring  in  a 
hansom,  and  an  evening  or  two  afterwards  met 
him  at  a  great  house.  That  house  was  not  the 
Whitehavens  ^  I  believe  that  he  was  not  denied 
the  door  there.  It  was  at  her  sister's,  the 
Duchess  of  Leven's,  that  I  came  upon  him. 
He  had  been  dining  there,  obviously,  and  was  in 
great  form  upstairs  when  I  arrived,  playing  the 
fool  among  a  lot  of  people,  as  he  could  when  he 
chose.  What  made  his  sallies  so  comic  was 
that  he  was  always  serious  himself.  Preposter- 
ous things  were  said  in  a  tone  of  cold  exaspera- 
tion— as  if  they  were  wrung  out  of  a  strong  man 
in  an  agony.     He  never  laughed — I  never  saw 


MAINWAEING  AND  SIR  JOHN     171 

or  heard  a  laugh  from  him ;  but  he  had  people 
in  tears  all  about  him,  some  praying  him  to 
stop. 

Lady  Whitehaven  was  there,  and  so  was  her 
pretty,  frail,  foolish  girl,  Lady  Mary  Pointsett. 
I  judged  that  things  were  not  well  between 
'Mainwaring  and  his  lady.  He  talked  at  her 
most  of  the  time ;  and  though  she  undoubtedly 
laughed,  I  could  see  that  she  held  off  him.  But 
her  poor  girl  seemed  bewitched.  She  couldn't 
take  her  eyes  away.  That  was  not  a  pleasant 
thing  to  see.  I  didn't  know  then  what  a  fool 
the  child  was,  nor  what  a  double  fool  her  mother. 

I  remember  one  thing  and  can't  leave  it  out. 
It  was  a  young  people's  party  that  night,  and 
we  were  playing  some  card  game  round  a  table 
— a  very  noisy  game  in  which  everybody  talked, 
and  cheating  was  allowed  so  long  as  it  was  not 
found  out.  The  Duchess  was  in  a  wild  humour 
and  said  whatever  came  into  her  head.  She  ac- 
cused Mainwaring  of  all  the  shifts  charged 
against  him  by  The  Messenger,  and  going  on 
from  bad  to  worse  taxed  him  with  having  **a 
pretty  wife"  somewhere  in  the  dark.  I  don't 
know  why — ^it  was  no  worse  than  half-a-dozen 
things  she  had  said — but  that  shot  was  followed 
by  a  dead  silence.    I  could  not  look  at  Lady 


172  MAINWAEING^ 

Wliiteliaven,  who  alone,  with  me,  knew  the  truth. 
Mainwaring  received  the  charge  without  the 
change  of  a  muscle.  He  raised  his  eyebrows 
and  looked  over  at  the  Duchess,  with  his  card 
suspended  in  the  air. 

*^A  wife,  or  wives,  did  you  say,  Duchess? 
Why  should  I  deny  it?  You  would  never  be- 
lieve me  if  I  denied  it  six  times,  but  would  wait 
for  the  crowing  cock.  No,  no,  I  '11  not  deny  it ; 
but  I'll  refer  you  to  my  friend  here.  You'll 
take  his  word  for  it. ' ' 

All  eyes  were  upon  me.  I  had  to  decide 
quickly.     It  was  rage  that  put  me  right. 

'^My  dear  Mainwaring,"  I  said,  ^'I  can  only 
say  that  I  have  often  been  at  your  house,  but 
that  I  have  never  yet  seen  any  one  there  who 
could  possibly  be  considered  as  the  mistress  of 
it. ' '  Lady  Whitehaven  was  shuffling  her  cards. 
Lady  Mary's  eyes  were  intently  upon  Main  war- 
ing. Mainwaring  looked  impudently  at  the 
Duchess.  ^' Hear  him!  Many  thanks,  my  dear 
man,  for  a  coat  of  whitewash."  Then  he 
slapped  down  his  King  of  Trumps,  and  took  the 
pool.  I  had  some  talk  with  him  afterwards,  but 
he  did  not  refer  to  that  incident  at  all.  He  told 
me  that  he  was  in  town  to  put  some  whalebone 
into  old  Hardman  's  frock-coat.     ^  ^  If  they  would 


MAINWAEING  AND  SIR  JOHN     173 

leave  me  alone  I  could  pull  them  out  of  the 
broth — but  they  won't  do  one  thing  or  the  other. 
They  are  all  more  or  less  in  it  like  flies — and 
when  I  get  them  to  a  dry  place  they  spend  their 
time  in  cleaning  their  legs/' 

He  said  that  there  would  be  a  general  strike 
up  there  within  a  week.  *^  Nothing  can  help  it 
— and  I'll  take  care  that  nothing  does.'' 

*^And  what  will  Hardman  say  to  that?" 

*'My  boy,  he'll  live  to  thank  me." 

I  asked  him  if  Lizzy  had  come  up,  but  he 
waved  her  away.  **No,  no.  I'm  not  staying 
at  home.  She's  with  her  folks,  and  much  bet- 
ter where  she  is."  Then  he  turned  away  to 
Lady  Mary,  who  was  waiting  for  him,  and  talked 
to  her  for  the  rest  of  the  time  that  I  was  there. 
I  had  a  few  words  with  Lady  Whitehaven,  who 
evidently  wanted  them. 

*^You  were  very  ready,  I  thought,  just  now," 
she  said,  by  way  of  beginning.  ^*I  was  thankful 
he  didn't  refer  it  to  me.  I  shouldn't  have 
known  what  line  to  take.  But  you  did  it  awfully 
well." 

^^I  told  the  truth,"  I  said.  ^'It  isn't  a  pleas- 
ant truth  at  all — but  there  it  is. ' '  | 

**Yes,  indeed."  She  looked  sympathetic — - 
her  head  on  one  side.     **I  can't  help  saying,  you 


174  MAINWAEINa 

know,  that  tlie  dear  creature  makes  it  almost  im- 
possible.    Doesn't  shef 

I  said  coldly  that  I  didn't  see  what  else  she 
could  do.  **Well,"  she  said,  *^one  thing  or  the 
other."  Then  she  told  me  that  she  had  seen 
Lizzy  before  she  went  away,  and  had  had  a 
great  shock.  **She  opened  the  door  to  me — in 
full  ^g,  you  know.  I  wasn't  at  all  prepared  for 
it.  She  looked  ravishing,  I  must  say.  She  is 
a  lovely  person — and  I'm  very,  very  fond  of 
her.  But  really — ^poor  man.  It  makes  it  al- 
most impossible." 

I  said  that  she  must  look  at  the  other  side  of 
the  thing  too.  He  had  married  her  against  her 
will  on  the  understanding  that  he  was  definitely 
taking  a  step  down.  She  had  been  almost  a 
cornerstone  of  his  political  edifice.  But  after 
Culgaith  he  began  to  take  steps  up.  Well — 
She  wasn't  prepared  for  that.  She  wasn't 
ready.  She  didn't  believe  in  what  he  was  do- 
ing. She  felt  that  she  had  been  tricked.  She 
was  absolutely  honest  and  could  not  bring  her- 
self to  play  a  part.  Underlying  the  force  with 
which  I  spoke  was  my  conviction  that  it  was 
Lady  Whitehaven's  doing. 

I  think  she  knew  that,  for,  as  once  before,  she 
deprecated  my  indignation. 


MAINWARING  AND  SIR  JOHN     175 

**I  know  what  you  mean,  of  course.  I  can't 
help  feeling  that  the  whole  thing  was  a  great 
mistake.  How  are  we  to  tell  what  happened? 
Whether  it  was  his  passion  for  her  which  drew 
him  to  the  people,  or  his  feeling  for  the  people 
which  committed  him  to  her?  In  either  case 
one  can't  blame  him — but  one  can't  approve,  can 
one?  You  see,  I  have  been  mixed  up  with 
politics  all  my  life — just  as  my  sister  is.  It  is 
so  immensely  important  to  our  party  that  he 
should  be  one  of  us — and  now  he  is  tied  by  the 
leg  to  a  sweet,  good  woman,  and  can't  rise  be- 
cause she  can't.  Why,  think  only  of  this.  If 
he  hadn't  been  married  he  would  never  have 
taken  that  absurd  great  cave  of  a  house.  He 
would  have  given  his  parties  at  the  House  of 
Commons,  or  anywhere —  Oh,  it  really  is  a  sad 
thing.  You  must  see  that.  I  am  determined 
that  he  shall  take  office.  He  will,  you'll  see, 
after  this  Jarrow  affair.  There  is  a  tre- 
mendous thing  hanging  upon  that.  If  he  suc- 
ceeds in  all  his  plans  he  will  prove  himself 
simply  indispensable  to  us.  Oh,  my  dear  Mr. 
Whitworth,  I  do  wish  I  could  make  you  see 
what  we  all  feel  about  it." 

I  contained  myself.  But  I  asked  her  whether 
she  had  said  all  this  to  Lizzy.    She  declared  that 


176  MAINWARING 

she  hadn't  said  a  word  of  it.  ''To  tell  you  the 
truth,"  she  said,  *'I  couldn't  have  done  it.  She 
has  a  way  of  being  unapproachable.  She  seems 
perfectly  simple,  and  yet  one  feels,  don't  you 
know,  that  she  is  judging  one  all  the  time." 

That  in  its  way  was  comic.  Lizzy,  of  course, 
seemed  simple  because  she  was  so.  Lady 
[Whitehaven  wasn't  at  all  used  to  direct  dealing 
in  anything,  being  herself  the  least  simple  of 
women. 

But  I  told  her  one  or  two  things  which  she 
wasn't  prepared  for.  ''Lizzy,"  I  said,  "is  do- 
ing what  she  thinks  her  duty  by  Mainwaring; 
but  she  is  not  doing  it  by  inclination.  She 
thinks  that  Mainwaring  is  not  doing  his  duty  to 
her,  but  that,  according  to  her,  is  his  a:ffair — not 
hers  at  all.  At  the  same  time  she  is  a  proud 
woman.  On  the  least  hint  from  him  she  would 
go.  I  don't  know  whether  he  knows  that — but 
I  know  it  myself  perfectly  well.  She  would 
go,  and  without  a  sixpence  from  him.  I'd  go 
to  the  stake  on  that." 

She  heard  me  thoughtfully— but  I  saw  a  smile 
hovering.    Presently  it  broke. 

' '  She  has  a  champion,  at  all  events.  I  wonder 
if  she  knows  how  devoted  you  are." 


MAINWAEING  AND  SIR  JOHN      177 

'^Not  only  does  she  know  it,'^  I  said,  *^but 
•Mainwaring  knows  it  too.'^ 

^  ^  He  is  dangerous — I  daresay  you  know  that. '  ^ 

I  stared.  ^  ^  Do  you  mean  that  he  might  think 
—  ?  I  assure  you  that  he  knows  Lizzy  much 
better  than  that. ''  The  malice  cleared  from  her 
lips,  and  she  dismissed  me  with  pure  benevo- 
lence. ^^She  must  be  a  saint,  from  what  you 
tell  me,''  she  said.  ^^No,"  I  said,  getting  up; 
*^ she's  not  that  at  all.  But  she's  true  to  type. 
I  fancy  that  her  mother  must  be  a  fine  woman. ' ' 
She  turned  away  her  head.  I  saw  rather  than 
heard  her  sigh,  and  at  that  moment,  or  the  next, 
I  saw  that  I  had  been  too  apt.  I  saw  Lady 
Mary  looking  up  with  adoration  at  Mainwar- 
ing,  who  was  hectoring  her  from  his  height. 
The  pretty  creature  was  drinking  him  in 
through  parted  lips.  I  was  very  young  for  my 
years — I  felt  a  horror  of  the  place  I  was  in. 

*^Look  at  those  two.  Isn't  it  comic  I"  That 
was  how  the  Duchess  took  my  farewells. 
Comic ! 

Going  out  into  the  street  I  heard  the  howling 
newsboys  proclaiming  a  general  strike  at  Jar- 
row. 


XIV 

LIZZY   BIDS   MB   GO 

WHILE  Lizzy  was  away  we  corresponded 
like  two  friends,  or  say  relatives ;  but, 
on  my  side  at  least,  when  she  returned  we  met 
Uke  lovers.  I  don't  know  what  made  me  keep 
the  door  of  my  lips,  I  am  sure.  If  I  had  not, 
she  would  have  given  me  hers.  I  don't  doubt 
that.  It  is  necessary  to  say — and  I  know  it, 
because  it  took  me  some  pains  to  find  it  out  for 
myself — that  in  Lizzy 's  world  the  kiss  is  still  the 
customary  greeting,  and  that  the  kiss  is  given 
and  taken  by  the  lips.  She  would  have  kissed 
me  that  afternoon  at  Charing  Cross  because  she 
was  tender  towards  me,  and  very  glad  to  see  me ; 
but  she  did  not.  I  take  no  credit  to  myself  for 
that :  it  is  the  fact  that  I  wished  so  much  to  kiss 
her,  and  that  it  would  have  meant  so  much  more 
to  me  than  to  her,  that  I  dared  not  do  it.  In 
her  it  would  have  been  an  expression,  in  me  a 
betrayal.  I  took  her  hand,  and  held  it.  **0h, 
my  dear,  I'm  glad  of  you."  She  stood  before 
me  trembling  and  glowing,  not  looking  at  me. 

178 


LIZZY  BIDS  ME  GO  179 

It  was  a  beating  moment — and  it  had  to  con- 
tent me.  I  took  her  luggage  from  her,  and 
then  we  went  together  to  my  rooms,  which  were 
in  Buckingham  Street,  close  by.  The  passion 
of  our  meeting  still  held  us.  I  don't  think  we 
spoke  a  word  to  each  other  until  we  were  in  the 
room.  Then  the  air  changed.  I  became  the 
host,  and  she  was  the  visitor.  I  knew  that  she 
would  feel  shy,  and  turned  all  my  will  to  putting 
her  at  her  ease.  I  made  her  take  off  her  jacket 
and  hat.  I  said  that  I  was  going  to  pretend  for 
an  hour  that  she  was  at  home.  She  laughingly 
lent  herself  to  it.  All  I  know  is  that  I  never 
felt  her  so  little  at  home  as  she  was  that  after- 
noon. 

I  lighted  the  gas  and  put  the  kettle  on  the 
ring.  Meantime  she  was  at  the  books,  amazed 
at  the  number — and  certainly  there  were  a  good 
many.  She  found  Sir  Walter  Scott's  shelf  and 
a  half  and  gave  a  little  cry  of  dismay.  **0h, 
I  shall  never  read  them  all  1 "  Then  she  pointed 
to  the  gap.  *^ That's  where  mine  comes  from. 
I've  brought  it  back."  It  was  The  Heart  of 
Midlothian.  We  talked  about  that.  What 
struck  her  most  about  it  was  the  change  in  Efifie 
Deans  after  she  had  married  her  Staunton. 
She  became  fat  and  discontented.    *  ^  That  might 


180  MAINWAEINa 

have  happened  to  me/'  she  said,  **with  any- 
body else/'  After  a  time  of  silence  she  broke 
out:  ^^He  doesn't  care  for  me  at  all.  I  don't 
think  he  ever  did  after  the  very  first. ' ' 

I  told  her  that  I  had  met  him  a  few  nights 
earlier  at  Leven  House,  and  her  eyes  went  quite 
pale.  *^Was  he  in  London?  Not  at  Montagu 
Square  r' 

''No.  He  told  me  that  he  wasn't  staying 
there.     He  knew  you  were  away. ' ' 

''Yes,  I  told  him  I  was  going,"  she  said. 
Then  she  suddenly  became  vehement.  It  was 
evident  to  me  that  she  had  been  thinking  about 
her  position.  ' '  I  have  almost  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  shall  go  away.  I  wanted  to  talk  about  it. 
I  did  talk  to  Mother,  and  she  thinks  I  ought 
to.  I  don't  feel  that  I  can  go  on.  It  is  making 
me  very  unhappy.  Mother  didn't  know  it  was 
so  bad  until  I  told  her.  Of  course  she  guessed 
something — not  all." 

' '  Did  you  tell  her  all,  Lizzy  1 ' '  She  had  been 
looking  at  me,  her  eyes  hot  with  her  wrongs ;  but 
when  I  asked  her  that  the  expression  in  them 
changed.  She  looked  down,  hanging  her  head. 
*'No,"  she  murmured,  "I  didn't  tell  her  every- 
thing.   How  could  I  ? " 


LIZZY  BIDS  ME  GO  181 

She  touched  me,  and  wrung  my  conscience  too. 
'^You  think  I  have  done  you  wrong,  Lizzy?'' 
Her  look  was  full  of  grief,  but  she  did  not  falter. 

**I  think  we  have  both  been  wrong.''  I 
turned  away  my  head. 

^*I  didn't  tell  you  before  I  went  home,"  she 
said,  *Hhat  Lady  Whitehaven  came  to  see  me. 
I  wanted  to — but  I  felt  I  must  think  it  out  by 
myself. ' ' 

^'She  told  me  she  had  been,  the  other  night," 
I  said.    Lizzy 's  voice  was  sharp. 

**Did  she  tell  you  what  she  had  talked 
about?" 

^*No.    I  didn't  ask  her." 
>    **She  talked  about  nothing  but  you  and  me. 
She  seemed  to  think  it  made  it  all  right.    It 
was    that    that    made    me    think    it    must    be 
wrong."    I  groaned. 

**So  it  is,  my  dear.  God  knows  I  didn't 
mean  to  hurt  you."  She  started  forward  and 
knelt  before  me.  My  face  was  in  my  hands, 
and  I  felt  the  warmth  of  her  cheeks  upon  them. 

*^The  only  happiness  I  have  ever  known  has 
been  from  you,"  she  said.  *'I  don't  know  what 
I  shall  do  without  you.     What  am  I  to  do  ? " 

It  was  she  who  took  my  hands  from  my  face — 


182  MAINWARINa 

but  it  was  my  own  act  that  made  me  look  at 
her — see  her  beautiful  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and 
show  her  mine. 

*'Ah,  my  dear,  my  dear,  how  can  I  tell?"  I 
said  brokenly,  and  took  her  in  my  arms.  There 
she  stayed  while  her  despair  tore  at  her.  If  we 
had  kissed  then,  we  might  have  been  forgiven. 
We  knew  it  was  for  the  last  time.  But,  by  a 
miracle,  we  did  not. 

She  withdrew  herself  gently  from  my  arms 
and  crouched  on  the  floor,  her  arm  resting  on 
my  knee. 

*^Now  I  know  that  we  must  part,''  she  said. 
But  it  was  my  turn. 

**We  don't  part,  Lizzy, — now,  until  I  know 
what  you  are  going  to  do.  I  can  bear  anything 
that  you  can  bear,  if  I  only  know  what  it  is." 

She  said  that  she  would  stay  as  she  was  at 
Montagu  Square  unless  she  was  forced  to  go 
by  anything  fresh.  If  he  made  another  scene 
with  Lady  Whitehaven  she  would  leave  him.  If 
she  left  him  she  should  go  back  into  service  and 
begin  life  all  over  again  under  her  maiden  name. 
She  promised  me  that  I  should  know  from  time 
to  time  where  she  was  and  how  she  was.  And 
I  was  to  tell  her  too  about  myself — whether  ill 
or  well.    In  fact,  we  might  write  to  each  other 


LIZZY  BIDS  ME  GO  183 

now  and  then,  and  she  was  to  receive,  and  re- 
turn, her  books — but  that  was  all  we  could  do. 

It  was  dreadfully  on  her  conscience  that  we 
had  put  ourselves  fatally  in  the  wrong;  but  I 
couldn  't  have  her  think  that.  I  told  her  of  my- 
self that  I  had  never  been  in  love  before — that 
I  should  never  love  any  one  else.  That  she  ac- 
cepted. I  said  that  she  had  married  Mainwar- 
ing  against  her  own  judgment  and  on  a  false 
pretence;  that  she  had  been  an  obedient  wife 
to  him  until  he  had  ceased  to  want  her  company. 
That  too  she  allowed.  But  when  I  tried  to  per- 
suade her  that  her  love  for  me  was  inevitable 
and  justifiable,  she  shook  her  head  sadly,  and 
would  not  be  convinced.  * '  No,  no — it  is  wrong. 
I  love  you,  but  I  ought  not.  And  there's  an- 
other thing.  Supposing  I  could  do  it,  I  am  sure 
I  ought  not  to  let  you  marry  me.'' 

*^If  you  could  do  it,  Lizzy,"  I  said,  ^^ou 
would  have  to  marry  me." 

I  could  see  that  she  was  not  convinced;  but 
she  threw  that  part  of  the  puzzle  overboard. 
<<Well— I  can't.  So  we  won't  talk  about  it." 
She  got  up  slowly.    ^  *  Now  I  must  go, ' '  she  said. 

The  pain  at  my  heart  was  like  the  wailing  of 
the  wind.  I  carried  on  from  point  to  point  like 
a  child.     The  one  thing  that  helped  me  through 


184  MAINWAKING 

just  now  was  the  certainty  that  before  she  left 
me  she  would  kiss  me.  One  can  act  a  miracle 
once — but  not  twice. 

And  she  did  it.  In  her  hat  and  jacket,  with 
her  veil  thrown  up,  she  lay  in  my  arms,  close 
against  my  heart,  and  gave  me  her  cold  lips. 
It  was  like  kissing  a  dead  woman.  And  that 
was  the  first  and  the  last.  I  carried  her  bag 
to  the  omnibus,  and  saw  her  into  the  machine. 
My  last  view  was  of  her  pale,  sad  face.  She 
looked  at  me,  did  not  raise  her  hand.  I  saw 
her  lips  move. 

I  have  no  earthly  doubt  but  she  was  right. 
I  had  put  her  in  the  wrong,  and  now  she  put 
me  in  the  right — so  far  as  a  wrong  can  be  un- 
done. In  the  way  of  a  man,  I  had  made  her 
happy  only  to  make  her  mere  unhappy  after- 
wards. I  had  not  helped  her  in  the  slightest 
degree,  and  by  my  wrongdoing  had  made  it  im- 
possible that  I  should  help  her  again.  As  peo- 
ple look  on  these  things  nowadays,  I  should  per- 
haps have  talked  her  into  surrender.  I  had 
passion  enough  to  do  it — or  I  should  have  had 
with  any  other  woman.  But  I  can  remember 
how  I  looked  upon  that  woman.  Her  purity 
was  a  part  of  her  beauty.  It  was  the  unearthly 
element  in  her  which  made  her  walk  this  world 


LIZZY  BIDS  ME  GO  185 

before  me  as  if  she  was  not  of  it.  Certainly  I 
was  not  better  than  most  young  men,  though  I 
had  never  had  anything  but  disgust  for  pur- 
chased love.  But  I  could  not  have  made  Lizzy 
Mainwaring  a  sinner,  or  been  a  sinner  myself 
with  her.  That  is  no  virtue  in  me,  but  of 
the  nature  of  her  being.  If  the  goddesses  of 
Greece  are  the  prototypes  of  ourselves,  in  Lizzy 
Mainwaring  you  may  read  Hestia,  the  Goddess 
of  the  Hearth.  She  stood  in  her  modesty, 
beauty  and  truth  for  the  Moral  Law. 


XV 

EBFLECTIONS   OP  A  BAISHSHBD  LOVEE 

AFTER  three  days  and  nights  of  misery 
and  intolerable  restlessness,  which  only 
sheer  cowardice  kept  me  from  spending  opposite 
the  house  on  Montagu  Square,  I  suddenly  re- 
covered my  courage  and  hope.  I  don't  know 
how  that  was.  I  woke  on  a  certain  morning 
full  of  the  privilege  of  my  pain.  To  know  that 
I  was  suffering  what  I  was  for  the  sake  of  the 
most  beautiful  woman  in  London  seemed  to  me 
at  the  moment  sufficient  reward.  I  don't  say 
that  it  lasted — indeed  it  didn't — but  it  gave 
me  time  to  collect  myself,  and  a  chance  also  of 
seeing  that  my  hand  was  not  played  out. 

I  had  all  sorts  of  schemes  in  my  head,  but 
for  the  moment  I  decided  to  spend  a  week  with 
my  sister  in  Somerset.  She  had  married  a  rich 
parson  named  Jagow  and  lived  in  a  place  called 
Weston  Court.  I  wrote  to  Lizzy  that  I  was 
going. 

Agatha  was  older  than  me  by  five  years — 
which  is  a  good  deal  when  it  means  that  she 

186 


A  BANISHED  LOVER  187 

was  five-and-thirty.    Jagow  I  don't  doubt  was 
ten  years  more.     She  respected  my  indepen- 
dence so  much  that  she  had  no  reprobation  for 
my  desultory  way  of  living,  which  was  one  of 
the   things   about   myself   I   was    resolved    to 
amend.     But  Agatha,  who  lived  among  great 
people  herself — being  undoubtedly  '^county'' — 
took  it  for  granted  that,  having  enough  to  live 
upon,  I  did  nothing,  and  mixed  with  my  kind — 
that  is,  her  kind.     So  she  plunged  me  into  talk 
of  the  Whitehavens  and  all  the  rest  of  them; 
and  then  I  found  that  Jagow  was  following 
Main  waring 's  career  with  intelligent  interest. 
He  told  me  what  he  was  doing  up  at  Jarrow 
all  this  while.     Evidently,  while  he  disapproved 
of  him,  being  naturally  a  Conservative,  he  had 
a  respect  for  the  position  he  was  making  for 
himself.     ^^A    discreditable    beginning,''    said 
Jagow,  *^but  we  must  remember  that  it  was  a 
beginning.     The  man  has  ability,  and  is  doing 
better.    We   may  yet   see   him  a   respectable 
member  of  society.    I  must  say  that  he  has 
ended  the  strikes  very  satisfactorily,  and  so  far 
as  I  can  judge  he  has  done  it  alone.     The  Times 
had  a  leader  about  him  the  other  morning.     It 
said  that  Mainwaring  had  made  a  great  stride 
forward. ' ' 


188  MAINWAEING 

I  learned  that  there  had  been  a  general  strike 
for  a  week,  during  which  negotiations  presum- 
ably went  on.  Then  Mainwaring  made  a  great 
speech  in  Monkwearmouth,  announcing  that  it 
was  all  over.  The  leaders  of  the  Union  had 
accepted  the  masters'  terms,  and  work  was  re- 
sumed the  next  day.  That  night  Mainwaring 
was  in  the  House,  and  had  a  great  reception. 
My  brother-in-law  read  me  Hardman's  speech 
of  compliment,  the  hero's  reply,  and  Bentivo- 
glio's  caustic  summing-up  of  the  whole — Right- 
eousness and  Peace  kissing  each  other,  and  so  on. 
He  did  not  forget  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal 
Son,  either. 

I  found  all  this  rather  artless  and  delivered 
it  as  my  opinion  that  Mainwaring  had  probably 
engineered  the  general  strike  for  the  purpose 
of  composing  it  afterwards.  That  shows  how 
angry  I  was;  for  that  was,  in  so  many  words, 
what  The  Messenger  said.  My  brother-in-law 
looked  at  me  as  if  I  was  blaspheming.  To  him 
a  successful  politician  was  a  figure  from  an  il- 
lustrated Bible.  He  might  be  badly  drawn,  but 
his  origin  put  him  above  criticism. 

Agatha  spoke  of  the  Whitehavens '  friendship 
for  him,  and  seemed  to  think  that  excused  a 
great   deal.    She  told  me  that   Lord   Gerald 


A  BANISHED  LOVER  189 

Gorges  was  at  home — which  I  had  not  known. 
She  fondly  supposed  that  the  young  man  was 
going  to  marry  Lady  Mary — unless,  she  said, 
Main  waring  did!  She  knew  nothing  of  the 
lady-mother's  little  affairs  of  the  heart,  good 
soul,  and  it  wasn't  for  me  to  enlighten  her. 
But  I  saw  trouble  ahead  if  that  news  was  true, 
and  dreaded  some  share  of  it  for  Lizzy. 

My  dear  girl  wrote  to  me  once  while  I  was 
at  Weston.  She  told  me  that  Mainwaring  was 
at  home.  ''But  I  see  very  little  of  him.  He 
only  has  his  breakfast  here — I  don 't  know  what 
time  he  comes  home.  I  don't  think  he  is  happy 
with  his  success.  He  is  going  to  law,  I  think. 
Against  The  Messenger.  He  has  not  spoken 
to  me  about  it — but  that  is  what  I  hear.  I  am 
happiest  when  I  am  reading.  I  have  finished 
Guy  Mannering/'  She  had  chosen  that  one 
herself  for  the  sake  of  its  name.  ''When  you 
come  back  I  should  like  The  Bride  of  Lammer- 
moor.  I  hope  she  was  happier  than  I  have 
been." 

I  wondered  what  Mainwaring  was  going  to  do 
with  The  Messenger,  Probably  an  action  for 
libel.  They  must  have  gone  one  step  too  far, 
and  given  him  his  chance.  He  was  not  the  man 
to  miss  that.    But  I  read  on. 


190  MAINWAEINa 

^^We  had  a  dinner-party  on  Tuesday.  Lord 
and  Lady  Whitehaven  came,  and  a  daughter, 
Lady  Mary  Pointsett — pretty  and  delicate-look- 
ing. The  lady  did  not  speak  to  me  except  to 
say,  *Good  evening,  Lizzy,'  as  she  came  in. 
There  were  other  people  there — so  we  had  men 
to  help  wait,  and  a  man  to  carve.  I  am  afraid 
things  are  as  bad  as  ever.  He  is  not  happy,  I 
can  see,  and  not  at  all  well.  They  talked  of 
The  Messenger  case.  He  said  that  he  should 
win  it,  and  then  there  would  be  a  surprise  for 
everybody.  I  heard  him  tell  the  lady  that.  He 
went  to  Court  on  Wednesday.  The  daughter. 
Lady  Mary  I  mean,  was  very  quiet,  and  seemed 
to  watch  him  all  dinner-time.  She  hardly  spoke 
to  the  men  beside  her.  When  they  went  away 
he  went  with  them,  and  I  don't  know  when  he 
came  back.  I  should  die  if  I  lived  like  that. 
I'm  glad  I  am  different,  and  would  not  change 
for  anything  in  the  world.  You  would  not  wish 
me  to,  would  you  ! ' '  She  signed  herself  ^ '  Yours 
sincerely,  Lizzy."  No,  indeed,  I  would  not 
have  wished  her  to  change  from  what  she  was. 

I  felt  restless  and  miserable  again,  and  the 
placid  atmosphere  of  well-ordered  Weston  only 
exasperated  my  complaint.  I  found  that  smug 
life  of  superior  beings  made  me  much  worse. 


A  BANISHED  LOVER  191 

Well-ordering,  too,  came  into  my  ideal — I 
dreamed  of  it  all  day  long — an  infinite,  loving 
care  for  detail,  but  redeemed  from  frivolity  by 
the  fact  that  one  did  all  the  work  oneself.  After 
all,  you  can  do  no  more  than  fulfil  well  the  laws 
of  your  being.  But  if  you  pay  other  people  to 
fulfil  them  for  you,  how  are  you  or  the  world 
the  better  for  them?  It  is  a  belief  of  mine  that, 
impalpably,  imperceptibly,  the  nation,  even  the 
world,  is  the  better  for  one  family  life  lived 
piously  and  diligently.  I  would  burn  in  defence 
of  that.  But  to  order  your  life  by  means  of  paid 
servants !  You  might  as  well  hire  a  man  to  be- 
get your  children,  as  a  nurse  to  bring  them  up, 
or  a  pedagogue  to  launch  them  upon  the  world. 
These  ideas,  however,  were  not  for  Weston 
Court;  so  I  took  them  away  with  me,  back  to 
London. 

I  had  a  book  on  hand — indeed,  it  had  been 
long  on  hand:  a  study  of  comparative  Ethics. 
I  was  trying  to  study  the  morality  of  Birds, 
and  was  really  interested  in  it,  until  my  own 
affairs  com.pelled  me  to  study  rather  the  ethics 
of  my  own  species.  I  was  now  much  more  pre- 
pared to  compare  the  morality  of  classes  of 
men:  the  standards,  for  instance,  of  Lizzy 
Mainwaring  and  Rose  Whitehaven — what  a  sub- 


192  MAINWARING 

ject  there!  And  that  brought  me  to  my  own 
morality,  and  Main  waring 's,  and  advised  me 
to  set  my  souPs  house  in  order  before  I  could 
safely  discuss  those  of  other  people. 

There  was  continuously  before  my  mind's  eye 
the  figure  of  that  noble  girl,  one  of  the  most 
lovely  of  God's  creatures,  engaged  all  her  days 
of  perfect  growth  in  menial  tasks — scrubbing, 
rubbing,  washing,  sweeping,  laying  fires,  raking 
ashes,  and  goodness  knows  what  besides.  In  no 
way  did  I  think  her  degraded — on  the  contrary, 
she  made  the  acts  beautiful  by  performing  them. 
That  she  should  be  hired  to  do  them — that  did 
not  degrade  her,  either ;  but  knowing  very  well 
how  little  I  could  bear  it  that  she  should  serve 
me  so,  unless  in  equivalents  I  could  serve  her, 
so  it  seemed  now  to  me  that  I  had  better  fit 
myself  for  her  companionship,  and  hire  no 
more.  Let  me  see  if  I  could  keep  my  rooms 
clean  as  well  as  myself ;  cook  my  meals  as  well 
as  eat  them.  I  took  immediate  steps  to  that 
end,  and  found  myself  very  much  the  better  for 
them.  A  friend  of  mine,  to  whom  I  confided 
my  readjustments  and  the  motives  of  them, 
thought  that  I  ought  to  go  further.  *'You 
should,  to  be  really   self-sufficient,''  he   said, 


A  BANISHED  LOVER  193 

**make  your  own  trousers,  and  wash  your  own 
shirts.  I  am  not  sure  that  you  would  not  be 
well-adviced  to  kill  your  own  mutton,  if  not  to 
grow  it,  and  brew  your  own  beer.  The  roof  of 
your  house  might  be  a  good  place  in  which  to 
grow  the  corn  to  make  your  hot  rolls  of.  But 
you  will  come  to  that  by  degrees,  no  doubt. 
The  only  drawback  I  can  see  immediately  to 
your  plans  is  that  you  will  cut  into  the  hours 
which  you  owe  to  the  Morals  of  Birds.  Perhaps 
the  subject  does  not  press  T^  I  said  that  it  did 
not. 

Pressing  or  not,  I  took  it  in  hand,  and  found 
it  a  good  distraction  until  I  had  a  better.  I  had 
not  long  to  wait  for  that.  In  the  autumn  the 
case  of  Mainwaring  v.  Copestake  and  another 
came  on  for  hearing.  That  was  in  November, 
and  I  am  now  come  to  the  end  of  July.  For 
the  interval,  the  House  rose  in  the  middle  of 
August.  Mainwaring  went  out  of  town  with 
the  rest  of  the  great  world — and  I  don't  know 
where,  nor  could  Lizzy  tell  me.  She,  having 
taken  what  holiday  she  thought  she  was  entitled 
to,  remained  in  Montagu  Square,  with  a  care- 
taker or  one  or  other  of  the  maids.  As  for  me, 
I  couldn't  take  myself  away  from  her  neigh- 


194  MAINWARINa 

bourliood,  even  thougli  I  could  not  see  her. 
Therefore  the  Morals  of  Birds  did  something 
towards  the  morals  of  one  exceedingly  lovesick 
man ;  and  Lizzy  reached  The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth 
in  her  studies. 


XVI 

MAINWAEING    IN    THE   BOX 

MAINWAEING'S  case  was  in  the  viva- 
cious hands  of  Sir  James  Bustle,  Q.  C, 
as  leader.  It  was  an  action  for  damages  for 
libel  contained  in  certain  leading  and  certain 
descriptive  articles  in  The  Messenger,  The 
gist  of  them  all  was  that  Mainwaring  had  been 
double-dealing  at  Jarrow,  being  unofficially  but 
really  there  on  the  part  of  the  Government,  and 
secretly  in  the  pay  of  the  Trade  Unions  engaged 
in  the  strike  or  in  sympathy  with  the  strikers. 
It  was  said,  among  other  things,  that  he  was 
the  paid  representative  of  the  Culgaith  colliers 
in  Parliament,  in  receipt  from  them  of  £300  a 
year ;  that  his  election  expenses  had  been  paid ; 
that  he  had  organized,  directed  and  maintained 
the  Culgaith  strike,  and  was  at  Jarrow  for  the 
same  purpose.  Finally,  it  had  been  said  in  so 
many  words  that  he  had  persuaded  the  other 
labour  organizations  of  Jarrow  to  join  the  strik- 
ing body,  and  bring  about  a  paralysis  of  social 
life  in  that  place.    He  had  been  called  a  nihilist, 

195 


196  MAINWARINa 

an  anarchist,  an  International  and  a  great  deal 
more — but  it  was  said,  he  laughed  at  such 
things.  The  libel  lay  in  the  charge  of  duplicity 
— false  dealing  with  the  Government  which  em- 
ployed him,  equally  false  dealing  with  the  Trade 
Unions.  He  took  hire  from  both,  and  cheated 
each.  That,  I  think,  was  the  charge — though 
perhaps  I  am  not  lawyer  enough  to  apprehend 
it  exactly.  It  lost  nothing  in  the  relating  by 
Sir  James,  and  occupied  the  Court  for  three  or 
four  days.  Mainwaring  was  under  cross-exam- 
ination for  the  whole  of  one  of  them. 

I  was  in  court  that  day,  unable  to  keep  out 
of  it  for  fear  that  he  might  be  asked  about  his 
private  life,  and  Lizzy  involved  in  the  hateful 
business.  It  was  full  to  the  doors — half  the 
House  of  Commons  was  there,  I  should  think, 
and  all  Mainwaring 's  friends.  The  Duchess 
of  Leven  and  her  sister  were  beside  the  Judge ; 
with  Lady  Whitehaven  I  saw  her  daughter,  who 
looked  dreadfully  ill — I  never  saw  eyes  in  a 
girl  like  hers— fixed  and  sightless,  like  blind 
blue  flowers.  What  the  woman  was  about  to 
bring  her  there,  God  knows.  I  am  not  good 
enough  psychologist  myself  to  understand  the 
twists  in  the  mind  of  a  woman  of  fashion. 

Mainwaring  was  at  his  best.     He  looked  well 


MAINWAEING  IN  THE  BOX        197 

and  spoke  well.  He  was  quite  at  his  ease,  and 
answered  his  questions  simply.  He  gave  the 
impression  of  concealing  nothing  because  there 
was  nothing  to  conceal.  In  chief,  he  related  the 
whole  business — or  so  it  appeared.  The  Prime 
Minister  had  sent  for  him,  he  said,  knowing  his 
interest  in  labour  questions.  He  saw  him  at  the 
Treasury;  with  him  had  been  the  President  of 
the  Board  of  Trade,  some  permanent  officials, 
whom  he  named,  and  a  secretary  or  two.  The 
Prime  Minister  had  begun  by  saying  that  the 
Government  was  interested  in  the  dispute,  col- 
laterally rather  than  directly.  There  were 
Government  yards  in  the  district,  and  Govern- 
ment contracts  in  the  affected  works.  It  was 
not  advisable,  it  was  against  policy,  that  the 
Government  should  intervene  directly  in  a  trade 
dispute — ^^a  most  inconvenient  precedent,"  he 
said,  might  be  grounded  upon  such  action.  He 
then  asked  Mainwaring  if  he  was  personally  in- 
terested in  the  matter.  Mainwaring  replied, 
Not  at  all,  except  in  so  far  as  he  was,  and  was 
known  to  be,  in  sympathy  with  workmen.  The 
P.  M.  then  said  that  that  answer  cleared  the 
ground.  The  Government,  predisposed  to  sym- 
pathy itself  with  labour,  desired  just  such  a 
legate.    He  then  explained  at  length  the  line  he 


198  MAINWAEINa 

wished  to  be  followed,  and  ended  by  asking 
Mainwaring  to  undertake  it.  Mainwaring  re- 
plied without  hesitation  that  he  would,  on  con- 
dition that  he  had  a  free  hand.  There  was  some 
conversation  upon  that — in  fact,  a  good  deal. 
Finally,  it  was  reduced  to  heads  on  paper,  and 
initialled.  His  expenses  would  be  paid,  but  he 
was  not  to  be  bound  by  the  result.  He  produced 
the  half-sheet  of  paper,  and  it  was  read  in  Court. 
After  that  he  gave  his  account  of  his  embassy, 
and  gave  it  admirably.  Up  to  a  point,  accord- 
ing to  him,  all  went  well.  ''I  kept  order  in  the 
place.  I  knew  how  to  do  that,  for  I  had  done 
it  before.  The  men  trusted  me,  and  followed 
me ;  for  they  knew  me  and  what  I  had  done  be- 
fore. I  was  in  a  fair  way  to  succeed — to  serve 
the  Government,  which  I  believed  to  be  honest, 
and  the  men,  whom  I  knew  to  be  so;  but — " 
There  he  stopped.  ''But  you  failed?'^  That 
was  Sir  James  Bustle.  ''But  I  failed.'^  That 
was  Mainwaring;  and  there  for  a  moment  he 
stopped,  and  then  went  on,  gathering  cold  vehe- 
mence as  he  spoke — ^picking  it  up,  as  an  express 
locomotive  picks  up  cold  water  and  turns  it  to 
energy  and  speed.  "There  were  forces  against 
me,  forces  that  worked  in  the  dark.  There  were 
men  there  who  cared  for  neither  side,  nor  for 


MAINWARING  IN  THE  BOX       199 

right,  nor  for  wrong;  men  who  lusted  to  bring 
me  down  into  the  dust,  and  would  hesitate  at 
nothing  to  achieve  it.  In  my  absence  upon  the 
vital  point — while  I  was  in  London  engaged 
with  them  that  had  sent  me — my  enemies  suc- 
ceeded in  making  themselves  enemies  of  my 
country.  A  general  strike  was  declared,  and 
for  a  week  Revolution  was  in  the  air.  If  I  was 
able  to  tread  out  the  torch  of  civil  war,  it  is 
no  thanks  to  them.''  On  that  Sir  James 
sharply  sat  down;  the  great  Sir  Vernon  Parke 
hitched  up  his  gown,  as  he  might  have  girded 
his  loins,  and  like  a  Renaissance  David  faced 
his  black-bearded  Goliath. 

After  the  preliminaries,  very  short  and  un- 
important. Sir  Vernon,  at  his  airiest,  planted 
a  dart. 

*^You  are,  I  think,  a  member  of  the  Reform 
Club,  Mr.  MainwaringT' 

^*Iam.'' 

**And  of  one  or  two  other  clubs,  I  think?*' 

*^0f  one  or  two  other  clubs." 

**0f  one  in  particular  known  as  the  Green 
Cloth  Club  r' 

^*0f  that  one,  yes." 

**You  play  card-games  there?  Games  of 
chance  ? " 


200  MAINWARINa 

^*  Games  of  chance  and  occasionally  games  of 
skill. '» 

^*No  doubt,  no  doubt.  But  let  me  deal  with 
games  of  chance  first.  Can  you  tell  me  some 
games  of  chance  which  you  play  at  the  Green 
Cloth?     Do  you  play  baccarat r* 

*^I  have  played  it  there.*' 

**No  doubt.    Faror* 

'*Faro  also.'* 

*^  Hazard  r* 

'^Yes,  I  have  shaken  the  bones  there.*' 

**Ah.  You  have  shaken  them  to  some  pur- 
pose, I  fancy.'* 

''I  have  shaken  them  to  a  purpose  which  I 
have  not  always  brought  off." 

*^But  on  one  occasion  you  have  brought  off, 
IS  you  say,  some  £3,000?" 

^'On  one  occasion  I  did." 

*^When  was  that!" 

**Some  time  in  April,  that  was." 

^  *  From  whom  did  you  bring  off  that  substan- 
tial sum?" 

**Sir  Hugh  Perron  lost  it  to  me." 

**And  of  course  paid  you?" 

**0f  course." 

'*  Thereupon,  Mr.  Mainwaring,  you  wrote,  I 


MAINWARING  IN  THE  BOX       201 

believe,  to  the  Radical  Association  in  your  con- 
stituency, renouncing  your  salary  T' 

*^I  did  not,  indeed. '^ 

''Let  us  be  sure  of  that,  if  you  please.  You 
did  renounce  your  salary?" 

''I  had  no  salary  from  the  Radical  Associa- 
tion/^ 

''Had  you,  or  had  you  not,  quarterly  pay- 
ments from  your  constituency?'^ 

"I  had  quarterly  payments  from  an  organiza- 
tion of  which  I  was  secretary/' 

"What  organization  was  thatT' 

"The  Culgaith  Miners'  Union/' 

"Ah.    And  those  payments  you  renounced?'^ 

"I  did." 

"When  did  you  renounce  them?" 

"Last  January." 

"Before  you  renounced  them  had  you  brought 
off  any  purpose  of  yours  at  the  Green  Cloth 
Club?" 

"I  had  not." 

"You  play  games  of  chance  elsewhere,  I  be- 
lieve?" 

"Sometimes." 

"Where,  sir?" 

"At  the  houses  of  my  friends;  occasionally 
at  my  own  house. ' ' 


202  IMAINWAEING 

'^Can  you  tell  the  jury  of  an  occasion  when 
you  brought  off  some  purposed' 

Mainwaring  paused,  as  if  he  was  reflecting 
whom  he  should  betray.  Then  he  said  slowly 
and  distinctly,  *^I  won  a  shilling  from  Lord 
Whitehaven  at  Snooker-pool.  But  that  is  a 
game  of  skill,  Sir  Vernon,  as  you  know.'' 
There  was  a  murmur  over  that.  Sir  Vernon 
Parke  was  known  to  be  fond  of  billiards  by 
every  barrister  in  court.  I  saw  old  Whitehaven 
crimson  with  joy.    But  Sir  Vernon  grew  nasty. 

**Did  you  ever  play  baccarat  at  Leven  House, 
Mr.  Mainwaring  f 

^^Yes,  I  did.'' 

**Did  you  win,  or  lose?" 

**I  did  both." 

**How  much  have  you  won  there?" 

**I  can't  tell  you.    I  have  kept  no  count." 

**How  much  have  you  lost  there!" 

<*The  Duke  may  tell  you  that." 

**0r  perhaps  the  Duchess?" 

'*I  daresay  she  will,  if  you  ask  her.  She  is 
liere. ' ' 

**Your  means,  Mr.  Mainwaring,  are  small!" 

**Very  small." 

**  You  live  upon  what  you  earn!" 

'*Upon  what  I  make — yes." 


MAINWARING  IN  THE  BOX       203 

*'Your  friends  have  assisted  you?'' 

*  ^  They  have  been  very  good. ' ' 

*^The  Duchess  of  Leven  in  particular!" 

**The  Duchess  of  Leven  likes  my  politics  and 
believes  in  me." 

<<Why  did  you  renounce  your  salary  as  Secre- 
tary to  the  Association  in  CulgaithT' 

*^ Because  I  desired  to  serve  the  State  rather 
than  a  private  body." 

''Did  you  give  up  your  duties  in  respect  of 
which  you  were  paid?" 

''No." 

"Do  you  hold  those  duties  to  be  consistent 
with  service  of  the  State?" 

"I  do  indeed,  Sir  Vernon,  and  that  is  where 
you  and  I  are  not  likely  to  agree." 

He  was  pressed  on  this  at  great  and  weari- 
some length,  but  was  not  hurt  by  anything  to 
be  had  from  him.  "I  conceive,"  he  said,  "that 
I  am  serving  the  State  if  I  enable  the  State  to 
deal  fairly  by  hard-working  and  distressed  citi- 
zens."    That  was  applauded. 

So  far  Parke  had  touched  the  fringes  of  his 
matter.  If  his  object  was  to  show  that  Main- 
waring  was  a  needy  adventurer — ^which  I  knew 
to  be  quite  true — he  had  not  done  it.  Mainwar- 
ing  had  been  too  wary  for  him.    Now  he  tackled 


204  MAINWAEING 

him  upon  liis  politics,  which  was,  so  to  speak, 
closing  with  his  adversary.  He  left  his  French 
career  out  altogether,  either  not  knowing  much 
about  it  or  as  thinking  it  would  not  tell  with 
the  jury,  and  began  instead  with  the  riot  in 
Trafalgar  Square. 

**Be  your  opinions  what  they  may  have  been, 
you  took  a  prominent  part  in  that  meeting  T' 

^^I  took  a  part.'' 

*^  You  spoke  at  that  meeting?'' 

**Yes." 

*^And  yours  was  the  last  speech  before  the 
rioting?" 

*^Mine  was  the  speech  interrupted  by  the 
police." 

**Were  your  last  words  before  you  left  the 
plinth,  *To  hell  with  the  police'!" 

*^I  should  not  be  surprised.  It  is  a  term  of 
endearment  with  us  in  Ireland. ' ' 

*'But  you  were  not  in  Ireland,  Mr.  Mainwar- 
ing.  You  were  in  Trafalgar  Square.  Did  you 
use  those  words!" 

*'They  are  the  sort  of  words  I  should  use 
when  I  saw  the  police  provoking  bloodshed." 

^^Did  you  use  them,  sir!" 

**How  can  I  teU  you!  I  use  words  of  that 
kind  when  I  can't  fasten  my  shirt-collar.     The 


MAINWAEING  IN  THE  BOX       205 

police,  who  were  mounted,  were  hustling  the 
people.     It  was  a  dangerous  moment.'^ 

**You  have  not  yet  answered  my  question, 
sir/^ 

**Sir  Vernon,  I  am  a  quick-tempered  man — 
what  I  may  or  may  not  have  said  when  I  saw 
the  police  undoing  all  my  work  I  leave  to  your 
imagination.  It  was  not  a  moment  for  a  man  to 
remember  his  words." 

^^You  say  that  you  don't  remember  whether 
you  called  out,  *To  hell  with  the  police!'  or 
not?" 

**I  do  say  so." 

He  was  pressed  as  to  what  he  did  next,  but 
all  that  he  could  be  got  to  say  was  that  he  was 
trying  to  keep  the  people  quiet.  Then  came  the 
great  helmet  affair.  **Did  you  give  the  order, 
^Hehnets,  boys!'?" 

'^I  did  that." 

*'And  did  you  set  an  example  by  bonneting 
a  policeman  from  behind?" 

Mainwaring's  dark  eyes  shone;  he  bent  his 
head  slightly  forward,  in  a  way  familiar  to  me. 
*^I  did  that,  sir." 

**And  upon  that  a  dangerous  riot  ensued,  for 
your  share  in  which  you  were  tried  and  sent  to 
prison  ? " 


206  MAINWAEING 

Mainwaring  pushed  his  head  further  forward 
and  then  thrust  it  upwards  so  that  his  forelock 
was  flung  back. 

*^Upon  that,  my  good  sir,  a  good-humoured 
game  of  shuttlecock  took  place  with  policemen's 
helmets,  instead  of  a  bloody  attack  upon  their 
heads ;  and  because  I  made  them  ridiculous  in- 
stead of  dead  men,  they  never  forgave  me.'' 
He  had  thrown  out  Sir  Vernon  Parke  as  I  had 
seen  him  at  Marseilles  throw  out  the  head- 
waiter  with  the  bill. 

He  had  no  real  difficulties  after  that.  His 
conduct  of  the  strike  at  Culgaith  had  really  been 
admirable,  and  he  was  able  to  show  that  it  was 
so.  It  was  not  put  to  him  that  he  had  really 
made  that  strike  in  order  to  make  himself, 
which  Lizzy  knew  to  be  the  fact,  and  which  he 
had  practically  admitted  to  me  was  a  fact. 
That  charge  was  made  against  him  upon  the 
Jarrow  strike,  and  he  had  no  trouble  in  dis- 
posing of  it.  He  had  only  gone  to  Jarrow  be- 
cause the  Government  had  sent  him;  the  general 
strike  had  begun  in  his  absence.  He  flatly  de- 
nied that  he  had  made  any  suggestion  of  such  a 
move  to  anybody  at  Jarrow.  Names,  meetings, 
speeches  were  put  to  him.  There  was  nothing 
to  be  got  from  him,  for  the  simple  reason,  I 


MAINWAEING  IN  THE  BOX       207 

believe,  that  he  had  not  done  anything.  I  had 
the  best  of  reasons  for  knowing  that  he  went  to 
Jarrow  unwillingly  and  left  it  as  soon  as  he 
could.  He  couldn  't  bear  being  away  from  Lady 
"Whitehaven  for  an  hour.  But  that  part  of  his 
life  did  not  come  in.  At  the  end  he  rose  once 
more  and  gave  Sir  Vernon  a  piece  of  his  mind. 
''You  waste  your  time,  Sir  Vernon.  You  can- 
not get  out  of  me  an  admission  of  what  I  have 
not  done.  I  could  have  procured  a  general  strike 
at  Jarrow  as  easily  as  you  could  believe  it  of 
me,  and  far  more  easily  than  it  was  procured 
by  the  rascals  who  procured  it  in  my  absence. 
If  you  really  desire  to  know  the  facts  you  will 
hear  them  from  a  witness  in  this  Court — ^but  I 
can  hardly  suppose  that  you  do.'' 

Sir  Vernon  Parke  sat  down.  Evidence  from 
the  Treasury  concluded  the  day.  The  next  day 
ended  the  case. 

I  came  out  with  the  crowd  and  saw  Mainwar- 
ing's  ovation.  He  was  received  like  a  victori- 
ous general,  but  took  it  stiffly,  without  move- 
ment of  a  muscle  of  his  face.  He  just  touched 
the  brim  of  his  hat  and  pushed  a  way  through 
the  hall  for  the  ladies  of  his  party.  I  saw  the 
Duchess  on  one  side  of  him,  and  Lady  Mary  on 


206  MAINWAEINa 

the  other.  Presently  I  saw  something  else, 
which  explained  Why  he  was  so  angry.  Lady 
Whitehaven  was  under  the  escort  of  Lord 
Oerald  Gorges!  He  also  was  scowling.  Be- 
tween her  two  lovers  I  felt  sorry  for  that  frail 
and  pretty  countess.  But  the  Duchepr  vas  in 
overflowing  spirits.  She  saw  me.  *'L  jw  d^^ 
do?  Wasn^t  it  too  comic?  I  haven't  been  so 
entertained  for  years.  Do  come  in  tomorrow. 
They  say  it  will  be  over.  I  say  it's  over  now. 
Don 't  forget.  Come  in  about  ten.  I  'd  love  you 
to  be  at  dinner — but  the  table  would  collapse 
if  it  had  one  more  plate.  Good-bye — I  'm  going 
to  feed  him  up!"    What  a  woman! 


XVII 

THE  SUHPEISE  PACKET 

IEEACHED  the  Court  at  ten,  and  just  found 
a  seat.  Already  the  place  was  like  the 
opera,  or  say,  the  Horse  Show  on  the  Jumping 
Day.  Everybody  seemed  to  know  everybody. 
Sir  Vernon  Parke  came  in  at  ten-fifteen,  evi- 
dently fussed. 

Shortly  afterwards  Lord  Gerald  Gorges 
ushered  in  Lady  Whitehaven.  He  stiffly  handed 
her  over  to  the  care  of  the  usher,  and  immedi- 
ately left  her. 

I  saw  her  look  appealingly  at  him,  softly,  and 
asking  for  human  treatment;  I  saw  her  look 
after  him  with  infinite  tenderness.  He  neither 
answered  the  appeal  nor  seemed  sensible  of  her 
following  gaze.  He  bowed  before  her,  turned 
and  went  out  of  the  Court.  I  saw  what  it  was. 
He  laid  his  claim  to  escort  upon  her,  but  would 
have  no  truck  with  Mainwaring.  My  heart,  as 
Homer  says,  was  divided  between  pity  for  a 
woman  in  such  a  pass  and  scorn  for  one  who 
could  put  herself  there.    She  had  a  moment  of 

209 


210  MAINWAEINa 

struggle ;  I  saw  her  swallow  convulsively ;  then 
her  straying  hapless  eyes  met  mine,  and  she 
was  in  her  world  again.  She  bowed  graciously 
to  me,  as  I  rose  in  my  place.  She  had  her 
daughter  with  her.  Soon  afterwards  the  Duch- 
ess swam  in,  full  of  the  pride  of  life  as  that  is 
known  to  pink  peonyhood.  She  behaved  very 
badly,  as  I  supposed  she  had  a  right — kissed 
freely,  kissed  her  hand  to  a  man  in  the  court, 
talked  nineteen  to  the  dozen,  pulled  herself 
about,  patting  here,  smoothing  there,  plucking 
at  laces  and  chains.  Every  eye  was  upon  her, 
and  she  knew  it — and  behold,  it  was  very  good. 
Mainwaring  strolled  in  at  the  stroke  of  half- 
past  ten,  and  gazed  calmly  round  the  court.  He 
saw  me  and  nodded  without  any  pleasure  in  the 
performance.  He  caught  the  Duchess 's  eye  and 
bowed  elaborately;  he  caught  Lady  White- 
haven's and  nearly  bowed  himself  in  half.  She, 
desperately  endeavouring,  pretended  it  was  all 
right.  Mary  Pointsett's  looks  devoured  him, 
but  he  took  no  notice  of  her.  Besides  him  on  the 
seat  below  the  bench  was  a  black-haired,  sleek 
young  man  whom  I  had  not  seen  on  the  pre- 
vious day.  He  was  very  spruce,  but  did  not 
look  a  gentleman.  I  should  have  guessed  him 
an  article  clerk  except  that  Mainwaring  talked 


THE  SURPEISE  PACKET  211 

vehemently   to    him   for   minutes    at    a   time. 

Then  with  a  call  of  ^  *  Silence !  Silence ! ' '  and 
a  general  rising,  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  came 
in,  a  wonderful  old  relic,  thoroughly  in  his  ele- 
ment. He  bowed  to  the  ladies,  he  leaned  for- 
ward with  a  whispered  gallantry  for  the  Duch- 
ess. His  saurian  eye  swept  up  Lady  White- 
haven and  her  pretty  girl.  One  could  have 
sworn  that  the  handkerchief  which  he  always 
carried,  and  frequently  to  his  nose,  was  rarely 
scented.  No  man  of  his  day  looked  more 
wicked,  or  was  less  so,  I  believe,  than  he.  But 
he  enjoyed  his  reputation,  every  wave  of  it,  and 
would  have  been  infinitely  disturbed  not  to  be 
thought  an  old  rake.  When  he  was  composed, 
and  his  papers  before  him,  he  looked  over  his 
glasses  at  the  learned  counsel,  and  while  Sir 
James  sat  still,  and  took  snuff.  Sir  Vernon 
Parke  rose  in  his  stead,  and  I  knew  that  some- 
thing had  happened  between  the  adjournment 
and  the  morning. 

Sir  Vernon  in  his  most  restrained  and 
rounded  manner  explained  that  something  had. 
His  clients,  he  said,  after  the  examination  of 
yesterday,  had  been  convinced  that  a  mistake 
had  been  made,  and  like  honest  men  were  anx- 
ious, at  the  first  possible  moment,  to  repair  it, 


212  MAINWAEING 

so  far  as  that  lay  in  their  power.  The  conduct 
of  a  great  journal,  a  great  daily  journal,  un- 
doubtedly must  tread  a  narrow  pathway  be- 
tween observation  and  inference.  It  must 
tread  that  pathway  exposed  to  the  gusts  of 
political  excitement,  of  political  passion ;  it  must 
frequently  be  impeded,  sometimes  obstructed  by 
popular  prejudice  or  strong  party-feeling. 
Here  he  enlarged  on  parties  in  politics,  and  the 
Lord  Chief  Justice,  joining  his  hands,  placed 
the  tips  of  his  fingers  against  his  lips,  closed 
his  eyes  and  apparently  slumbered.  From  that 
he  turned  to  the  London  Messenger  and  praised 
it  warmly,  but  tempered  his  encomium  with 
gentle  regret  that  so  very  noble  a  career  should 
be  checked  by  an  error  of  judgment  whose  very 
enormity,  did  one  but  consider  it  calmly,  pro- 
ceeded from  a  rigid  standard  of  political  pro- 
priety. His  clients,  in  fact,  expected  too  much 
from  public  men.  They  preached  a  Counsel  of 
Perfection,  it  might  be  said.  They  were  con- 
cerned for  the  credit  of  the  Administration,  as 
such,  and  the  more  profoundly  they  disagreed 
with  the  opinions  of  the  party  in  power,  the 
more  deeply  anxious  were  they.  He  then  spoke 
of  Mainwaring's  record,  more  in  sorrow  than 
in  anger.    He  reminded  his  Lordship  that  he 


THE  SURPEISE  PACKET  213 

had  heard  that  at  length  from  the  plaintiff's 
own  lips.  He  need  not  dwell  upon  it  now,  upon 
the  recklessness  which  endangered  the  peace  in 
Trafalgar  Square  and  had  brought  upon  Mr. 
Mainwaring  the  punishment  of  riot  and  outrage. 
A  great  many  more  facts  which,  as  he  said,  he 
need  not  recall  to  memory,  he  proceeded  to  re- 
call at  length.  Finally,  ha^/ing  shown  Main- 
waring  to  be  a  pirate  living  from  hand  to  mouth, 
a  beast  of  prey  and  an  Irish  adventurer,  he  came 
to  the  point.  His  clients  were  now  convinced 
that,  however  reasonable  the  allegations  had 
been  upon  which  they  proceeded,  they  were  alle- 
gations not  founded  upon  fact.  Mr.  Mainwar- 
ing, they  now  believed,  acted  upon  the  instruc- 
tions and  in  the  interests  of  the  Treasury.  He 
was  not  in  the  hire  of  the  Trade  Unions.  He 
had  no  part  in  promoting  the  general  strike. 
These  things  had  been  credibly  reported  to  the 
London  Messenger,  and  honestly,  though  sadly, 
believed.  The  proprietors  and  editor  of  that 
great  newspaper  desired  to  withdraw  all  that 
had  been  said.  They  offered  Mr.  Mainwaring 
the  most  ample  apology,  and  submitted  them- 
selves to  whatever  pecuniary  damages  the  Court 
-might  adjudge  them.  Thereupon  Sir  Vernon 
hitched  up  his  gown  and  sat  down  upon  it,  los- 


214  MAINWAEING 

ing,  apparently,  all  further  interest  in  the  case. 
Sir  James  Bustle,  after  shovelling  in  snuff 
with  a  series  of  sniffs  which  pierced  one  to  the 
spine,  rose  in  his  place.  He  was  glad  to  hear 
his  learned  friend ;  he  was  always  glad  to  hear 
him ;  but  he  was  never  so  glad  as  when  he  heard 
him  putting  a  good  face  upon  a  bad  business. 
Here,  he  told  the  Court,  was  a  business  bad 
beyond  example  or  belief.  A  series  of  long- 
continued  and  unceasing  attacks  had  been  made 
upon  a  distinguished  public  servant.  No 
damages  could  be  too  severe,  no  apology  could 
be  adequate  to  such  a  disgraceful  business. 
The  admission  today  that  the  so-called  facts  in 
the  possession  of  the  London  Messenger  were 
miscalled  facts  could  have  been  made  on  the 
day  on  which  they  were  aimed  at  Mr.  Mainwar- 
ing's  reputation.  Nobody  knew  that  better 
than  the  clients  of  his  learned  friend.  Of  one 
thing  he  was  confident — ^his  learned  friend 
could  only  have  learned  them  last  night  or  this 
morning;  for  he  ventured  to  say — and  then  he 
allowed  himself  some  five  minutes  of  compli- 
ment to  Sir  Vernon  Parke,  who  beamed  upon 
him,  and  glanced  at  the  Duchess.  But  after 
that  Sir  James  grew  cold  and  unkind.  The 
thing  could  not  stop  so  easily.    Disgraceful  im- 


THE  SURPEISE  PACKET  215 

putations,  amounting,  lie  was  not  afraid  to  say, 
to  conspiracy  and  treason,  had  been  made 
against  Mr.  Mainwaring.  He  had  been  charged, 
and  repeatedly  charged,  with  having  procured  a 
general  strike  in  the  great  industrial  district  of 
Jarrow.  Such  a  charge,  if  true,  was  tanta- 
mount to  accusing  his  client  of  engineering  a 
civil  war  in  this  country.  His  client  was  in 
the  hands  of  the  Court,  but  he  claimed  the  right 
of  every  man  of  honour,  not  only  to  clear  him- 
self of  such  a  monstrous  charge,  but  also — and 
here  Sir  James  rammed  home  his  words  with 
a  slapping  hand — but  also  of  proving  who  in 
fact  was  the  guilty  person.  For  guilt  there  had 
been  in  this  matter;  a  general  strike  had  been 
engineered;  and  he  was  in  a  position  to  prove 
by  whom  that  wicked  action  had  been  perpe- 
trated. His  client  felt,  and  he,  Sir  James,  was 
of  his  opinion,  that  the  matter  could  not  stop  in 
this  Court.  On  that  account,  if  on  no  other, 
he  claimed  the  leave  of  his  Lordship  to  put  a 
witness  in  the  box  before  he  could  consent  to 
accept  the  terms  offered  him. 

Upon  that  there  was  a  great  to-do.  No  words 
of  mine  could  picture  the  horror  and  grief  of 
Sir  Vernon  Parke.  He  danced  about  like  a 
gnat  in  a  sunbeam;  his  cries  of  protest  were 


216  MAINWARING 

pregnant  with  hurt.  Sir  James  took  snnff  and 
gazed  stolidly  before  him,  and  I  could  see  that 
the  Lord  Chief  Justice  had  made  up  his  mind. 
He  spoke  to  the  jury  in  his  most  silvery  tones. 
He  thought  that  they  would  agree  with  him,  in 
view  of  what  the  learned  counsel  had  said,  that 
evidence  of  such  a  nature  ought  to  be  put  upon 
record.  They  would  shortly  be  called  upon  to 
assess  damages  for  what  was  now  admitted  to  be 
a  very  serious  libel.  He  should  take  upon  him- 
self to  direct  them  to  consider  the  evidence 
carefully  and  candidly,  both  that  which  might 
be  given  in  chief  and  that  which  might  be  elicited 
in  cross-examination.  Then  he  sank  back  in  his 
elbow-chair,  and  Sir  James  said,  ''Stephen 
Fawcett  Headworth.'* 

The  sleek-headed  young  man  edged  past 
Mainwaring,  and  went  into  the  box.  His  name, 
he  said,  was  Stephen  Fawcett  Headworth,  and 
he  was  a  journalist  by  profession.  He  had  been 
on  the  staff  of  the  London  Messenger  for  some 
four  years,  but  was  not  now.  He  had  done  a 
good  deal  of  descriptive  reporting  for  the  paper. 
Yes,  in  particular,  he  had  reported  the  Grateby 
murder,  and  had  been  instrumental  in  bringing 
the  murderer  to  justice.  He  described  the  gen- 
eral course  of  a  reporter's  duties.    You  were 


THE  SUEPRISE  PACKET  217 

given  a  very  free  hand,  he  said,  on  the  Messen- 
ger, but  were  expected  to  be  very  smart.  You 
had  to  give  them  facts ;  and  if  the  facts  weren't 
there  you  had  to  hunt  about  until  you  found 
them.  He  had  often  reported  meetings  of  Mr. 
Mainwaring's:  one  of  them  had  been  the  riot  in 
Trafalgar  Square.  He  had  taken  the  trouble  to 
learn  all  about  Mr.  Mainwaring.  You  were  ex- 
pected to  do  that.  He  was  sent  up  to  Jarrow, 
he  said,  as  soon  as  the  strike  became  likely. 
"When  Mr.  Mainwaring  went  there  he  himself 
returned  to  London  in  obedience  to  a  telegram 
from  Sir  John.  He  saw  Sir  John  at  his  private 
house  in  Cadogan  Gardens  that  same  night. 

*^Sir  John  said,  ^I  think  we've  got  that  chap. 
He  '11  be  in  this  up  to  the  neck. ' 

**I  said,  *I  think  he  is  going  up  for  the  Gov- 
ernment.' He  said,  ^Bah!  he'll  sell  the  Govern- 
ment if  it  pays  him.'  I  said,  ^He's  more  cau- 
tious than  he  used  to  be.'  He  said,  *^Pooh!  a 
little  encouragement.'  Then  he  said,  after  a 
bit,  ^We  want  a  scoop  out  of  this,  Headworth. 
We  have  been  on  his  tracks  a  long  time.  You 
have  a  chance  here  in  a  thousand.'  I  said  that 
I  should  do  my  best,  but  that  I  was  sure  Mr. 
Mainwaring  would  be  careful.  Sir  John  said, 
*Not  when  his  blood  is  up.    Not  if  you  know 


218  MAINWAEINa 

your  business.  When  he  smells  the  battle,  you 
will  see,  he'll  say  among  the  captains,  Haha.' 
And  then  he  said,  'Now,  my  boy,  don't  you  let 
me  down.  There's  a  good  deal  in  this.  You 
have  your  way  to  make,  and  I  will  see  to  it — 
if  it  happens  to  be  my  way.'  " 

''What  did  you  gather  from  that  remarkable 
conversation,  Mr.  Headworthl" 

"I  considered  that  Sir  John  was  anxious  for 
Mr.  Mainwaring  to  commit  himself." 

"What  did  you  understand  Sir  John  to  mean 
by  'Pooh,  a  little  encouragement'!" 

The  sleek  young  man  adjusted  his  pince-nez. 
"I  took  him  to  mean  that  if  Mr.  Mainwaring 
had  much  to  do  with  the  Labour  Organization 
he  might  go  further  than  he  intended." 

"Is  that— did  you  take  that  to  be  the  whole 
of  his  meaning?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Did  you  take  him  to  have  meant  that  if  en- 
couragement of  the  sort  could  be  given  to  Mr. 
Mainwaring,  Sir  John  would  not  have  been 
sorry  for  it  ? " 

The  young  man  again  fidgeted  with  his 
glasses,  and  spoke,  when  he  did  speak,  with 
difficulty.  "Well,  Sir  James,  I  knew  that  Sir 
John  had  a  down  upon  Mr.  Mainwaring." 


THE  SURPRISE  PACKET  219 

^^A  *down,'  sir?     And  what  is  a  'down'l" 

*^I  mean  that  Sir  John  did  not  think  well  of 
him,  or  wish  him  well/'     . 

^^Is  your  meaning  that  Sir  John  wished  to 
see  Mr.  Mainwaring  ruin  himself  politically? 
Don't  say,  Yes,  if  you  don't  mean  it.  I  don't 
at  all  wish  to  lead  you. ' ' 

*^I  have  heard  Sir  John  say  that  the  sooner 
Mr.  Mainwaring  dished  himself  the  better. ' ' 

*^Sir  John  Copestake,  then,  to  your  under- 
standing, thought  that  there  was  a  good  chance 
of  Mr.  Mainwaring  dishing  himself,  as  you 
say?" 

*'Yes,  sir." 

^'With  *a  little  encouragement'?" 

**0h,  yes,  sir;  he  certainly  said  that." 

**And  if  you  knew  your  business?" 

^^ Yes— he  said  that." 

**So  I  understand.  Then  he  went  on  to  ad- 
vise you,  you  say,  not  to  *let  him  down.'  How 
did  you  understand  that?" 

^^In  this  way.  There  had  already  been  a 
leader  in  the  Messenger  about  the  strike,  saying, 
among  other  things,  that  now  we  were  reaping 
the  fruits  of  seeds  sown  in  Culgaith.  Sir  John 
would  not  want  to  have  to  go  back  on  that. ' ' 

**It  was  for  you  to  see  that  he  did  not?" 


220  MAINWAEING 

*^I  understood  it  so,  certainly/' 

**You  understood,  in  fact,  that  if  you  were  to 
*make  your  way,'  as  he  said,  and  you  have  told 
us,  your  way  was  to  be  his  way?" 

^^Yes,  that  is  what  I  understood." 

**And  Sir  John's  way  was  the  ^dishing'  of 
this  member  of  Parliament,  sent  up  to  Jarrow 
on  behalf  of  the  Government  f  Is  that  what  you 
understod  it  to  be?" 

^'Yes,  sir." 

**And  you  had  a  free  hand?" 

**0h,  yes.  Sir  James." 

**And  on  that  you  returned  to  Jarrow?" 

*^Next  morning." 

**Now,  tell  my  lord  and  the  jury  what  you  did 
in  Jarrow. ' ' 

The  young  man  addressed  the  judge  rather 
than  the  jury.  The  old  Chief,  his  fingers  to  his 
lips,  watched  him  solemnly  over  his  glasses,  un- 
commonly as  an  owl  in  a  cage  watches  a  circling 
mouse.  The  mouse  whips  round  and  round, 
panic  increasing  his  pace.  Just  so  this  young 
man  grew  more  and  more  glib,  less  and  less 
assured.  His  hair  dissolved  in  wisps  upon  his 
forehead ;  his  glasses  slid  from  his  nose.  I  saw 
the  dew  of  terror  shining  on  his  face.    I  dis- 


THE  SURPRISE  PACKET  221 

liked  the  young  man  extremely,  and  yet  I  was 
sorry  for  him. 

What  he  did,  in  effect,  was  to  inspire  the 
trade-union  leaders  with  confidence  that  a  gen- 
eral strike  was  what  Mainwaring  wanted,  and 
that  nothing  else  would  so  surely  strengthen 
his  hand.  *^I  said  to  Boultby,  my  lord,  *Mr. 
Mainwaring  is  the  friend  of  you  fellows.  You 
give  him  an  opening,  he'll  take  it.'  They  said 
to  me,  ^Not  likely,  and  put  himself  in  your 
hands.'  I  said,  *Much  he  cares  for  us  or  a 
penny  packet  of  us.  Besides,  I'm  not  talking 
to  you  now  as  The  Messenger.  I'm  talking  to 
you  as  a  man.'  Boultby  said,  ^We  don't  care 
one  damn  for  you — not  a  twopenny  damn.  But 
Dick  Mainwaring  is  not  the  man  he  was  at  Cul- 
gaith.'  I  said,  ^That's  all  you  know  about  him^ 
— and  a  lot  more  like  that.  And  I  believed  it, 
for  it  was  true. 

^*I  saw  all  of  them,  and  several  of  them 
several  times.  And  they  decided  on  the  general 
strike.  Then  all  of  a  sudden  Mr.  Mainwaring 
went  to  London." 

**Did  Mr.  Mainwaring  know  of  the  general 
strike  being  decided  upon  before  he  went  to 
London?" 


222  MAINWAEING 

*^I  daresay  he  knew  of  it  in  a  general  way — 
suspected  it,  I  mean— or  expected  it.  But  he 
didn^t  have  it  from  the  trade-unions — not  of- 
ficially. They  were  to  have  asked  him  to  come 
in  the  next  morning.  But  he  went  to  London 
overnight — all  in  a  hurry.  ^' 

*^Did  you  have  any  conversation  with  Mr. 
Mainwaring  when  he  was  in  Jarrowf 

^' Never,  sir.  He  didn't  know  me,  so  far  as  I 
know. ' ' 

''Now,  when  this  general  strike  was  decided 
on,  you  wrote  out  your  report  and  sent  it  off  ?'* 

''Yes,  sir— but  I  didn't  know  that  Mr.  Main- 
waring  had  gone  away.'' 

i '  No— I  understand.  Did  you  telegraph  your 
report?" 

"No,  sir;  too  dangerous.  I  sent  it  up  by 
train.     One  of  our  people  took  it. ' ' 

"In  that  you  announced  this  general  strike 
and  said  that  Mr.  Mainwaring  was  concerned  in 
it?" 

The  young  man  wetted  his  lips  with  his 
tongue,  and  immediately  wiped  them.  "My 
copy  was  published  next  day,  sir." 

"What  did  you  say?"  That  came  from  the 
Lord  Chief— in  a  voice  such  as  Lazarus  might 
have  used  from  his  charnel-house.     The  young 


THE  SUKPKISE  PACKET  223 

man  shook.  ^^My  Lord,  I  said  that  Mr.  Main- 
waring  was  seeing  the  leaders  of  the  men  that 
morning.'^  The  Court  was  dead  quiet.  Even 
the  Duchess  left  herself  alone. 

Sir  James  took  up  the  tale.  ^' There  was  a 
leading  article  in  the  Messenger  as  well  as  your 
report  ?'' 

^^Yes,  sir.'' 

*^You  did  not  write  thatr' 

^^Oh,  no,  sir.'' 

'^Was  it  headed  ^  Treachery  T' 

**Yes,  sir." 

'*Was  that  based  upon  your  report?" 

*^I  couldn't  say.  It  was  based  partly  upon 
my  copy,  and  partly  on  what  they  thought  in 
the  office." 

'*I  see.  And  you  have  told  us  what  they 
thought  in  the  office.  Well,  Mr.  Headworth,  I 
don't  know  that  I  need  trouble  you  any  further 
— at  present." 

Sir  Vernon  Parke  was  on  his  feet;  but  the 
Judge  held  up  his  hand. 

*^One  moment.  Sir  James.  There  are  a  few 
points  I  should  like  to  clear  up."  He  turned 
to  the  witness  as  if  he  was  a  specimen  under 
the  microscope — as  indeed  at  the  moment  he 
was — and   enquired  into   the   methods   of   the 


224  MAINWAEING 

London  Messenger,  Headwortli  explained  to 
liim  that  the  reporters'  stories  were  always  sub- 
ject to  revision,  and  might  be  contracted  or  ex- 
panded as  space  required.  He  said  that  when 
you  were  known  in  the  office  you  always  had  a 
free  hand  as  to  treatment;  but  that  in  special 
cases  Sir  John  overlooked  the  copy  himself. 
In  the  murder  case  referred  to,  and  in  the 
Badlesmere  divorce  case,  he,  Headworth,  had 
travelled  far  outside  his  brief.  He  thought  that 
all  good  descriptive  writers  did.  Kealism  was 
the  note  of  the  Messenger — facts  all  the  time. 

**And  when  facts  were  weak? — ^'  suggested 
his  Lordship. 

**0h,  well,  you  can't  make  facts,  of  course — " 
the  young  man  began.  The  Judge  removed  his 
spectacles  to  look  at  him.  That  was  all  he  did, 
but  it  sufficed. 

His  lordship  sank  back  in  his  chair,  and  Sir 
Vernon  resumed  his  rage  and  scorn.  He  was 
very  short.    . 

^^You  were  dismissed  from  the  service  of  the 
London  Messenger?^' 

**I  received  notice  to  leave." 

**To  leave  at  once?" 

''I  left  the  same  day.  I  had  three  months' 
salary  in  lieu  of  notice." 


THE  SURPKISE  PACKET  225 

**But  you  have  just  told  us  that  you  received 
notice  to  leaver* 

^*I  was  told  that  my  services  would  not  be  re- 
quired. ' ' 

**Was  that  before  these  proceedings  were 
commenced,  or  after  f 

*^  Before/' 

*^When  these  proceedings  were  commenced, 
did  you  communicate  with  the  plaintiff's  so- 
licitors?'' 

**No,  sir.  They  wrote  to  me.  They  asked 
me  to  call." 

*^And  you  told  them  what  you  have  told  us?" 

**Yes,  in  the  course  of  conversation  it  all 
came  out." 

*'And  was  anything  said  about  terms,  Mr. 
Headworth?" 

^  ^  No,  sir — nothing  was  mentioned. ' ' 

*'Did  you  not  receive  thirty  pieces  of  silver?" 

**No,  sir,  nor  thirty  pieces  of  copper,  either." 

''That  will  do,  Mr.  Headworth." 


Parke  made  the  best  tale  he  could  of  it,  but 
was  heard  with  visible  distaste  by  the  Judge, 
and  by  a  jury  which  had  made  up  its  mind  long 
ago,  and  was  longing  to  be  free.  The  Judge, 
who  could  see  with  his  eyes  shut,  was  very  im- 


226  MAINWAEINQ 

pressive  and  very  short.  He  said  tliat  the  de- 
fendants had  done — at  the  instance  of  their 
learned  counsel — the  only  thing  that  could  be 
done,  he  need  not  say  by  men  of  honour ;  let  him 
say  by  men  of  the  world.  They  admitted  what 
they  called  a  mistake,  in  fact.  The  Jury  would 
consider  in  assessing  the  damages  suffered  how 
far  those  were  aggravated  by  the  sense  of  fact 
possessed  by  the  remarkable  young  man,  Mr. 
Headworth.  He  should  not  delay  them  now  in 
discriminating  between  the  acts  of  the  agent, 
Headworth,  and  the  principal.  The  principal 
was  undoubtedly  bound  by  his  agent  ^s  acts,  and 
had  admitted  that  he  was  bound.  What  might 
be  the  upshot,  elsewhere,  of  this  case  he  was  not 
enabled  to  say.  So  far  as  he  was  concerned, 
he  should  forward  the  evidence  to  the  proper 
quarter.  Upon  the  matter  of  damages  he  would 
only  add  one  word.  The  plaintiff  in  this  case 
was  a  distinguished  public  servant,  with  a 
career  before  him.  There  could  be  no  doubt 
that  it  bade  fair  to  be  a  brilliant  career.  How 
far  the  reckless  or  malevolent  act  of  a  news- 
paper could  imperil  that,  it  was  difficult  to  say ; 
but  it  would  be  obvious  to  the  jury  that,  uncon- 
tradicted, unchallenged,  the  charges  which  had 


THE  SUEPRISE  PACKET  227 

been  brought  against  the  plaintiff  ^s  integrity 
must  have  been  fatal  to  it. 

The  jury,  without  leaving  the  box,  gave  Main- 
waring  £5,000.  I  looked  at  him.  He  sat  like 
a  man  of  marble,  without  expression  in  his  face. 
People  were  standing  up,  all  looking  at  him; 
women  were  waving  their  handkerchiefs,  some 
were  crying.    He  neither  looked,  nor  moved. 


XVIII 


CUPS 


A  PENCIL  note  from  the  Duchess  had  been 
handed  me  in  court  by  the  usher.  It  said, 
*'The  Duke  can't  dine  tonight,  so  you  must! 
I  know  the  F.  (the  Fenian)  wants  to  see  you. 
Isn't  it  all  splendid?    H.L/' 

The  Duke  of  Leven,  I  know,  had  never  been 
able  to  stand  Mainwaring.  He  was  a  some- 
what bloodless,  fastidious  magnate,  almost 
damned  in  his  fair  wife.  He  drew  many  lines 
— and  one  of  them  was  across  Mainwaring 's 
name.  I  had  bowed  my  acknowledgments  to 
her  enquiring  face,  and  did  as  I  was  bid. 

As  I  walked  up  St.  James's  Street  I  had  the 
uneasy  feeling  upon  me  that  I  was  being  false 
to  Lizzy ;  and  an  impulse  possessed  me  to  throw 
over  honour  and  the  Duchess  and  make  a  bolt 
for  Montagu  Square.  How  would  she  have  re- 
ceived me  if  I  had  obeyed  it?  With  mute  re- 
proach, or  with  gentleness,  compassion  and 
warm  tears?    I  thought  that  I  knew,  and  in  the 

228 


CUPS  229 

same  thought  put  away  the  impulse.  Suppose 
that  passion  got  the  better  of  me — could  I  ever 
have  got  the  better  of  the  remorse  that  must 
have  followed?  Was  not  her  conscience  a  part 
of  her  beauty — perhaps  its  price?  Could  I  bear 
to  treat  her  as  Mainwaring  was  treating  her, 
as  a  lovely  passing  thing,  for  which  he  was 
lucky  to  have  found  a  use,  after  he  had  done 
with  her?  To  sacrifice  her  to  my  passion  after 
he  had  used  her  for  his  would  have  put  me 
lower  than  I  now  saw  him.  But  I  resolved  to 
be  done  with  these  people  as  soon  as  I  could. 
They  stood  between  me  and  my  religion. 

There  was  a  great  collection  of  political  some- 
bodies in  the  long  drawing-room.  I  saw  the 
Prime  Minister  and  his  wife  talking  to  the 
Duchess  under  the  chandelier.  Mainwaring 
was  there  too.  The  Duches  gave  me  a  finger 
and  a  nod.  She  didn't  seem  to  know  me — but 
to  assume  that  it  was  all  right.  I  hoped  that 
she  didn't  think  I  was  Mr.  Headworth  by  any 
chance.  The  Groom  of  the  Chambers  had  told 
me  whom  I  was  to  take  down,  and  where  to  sit, 
so  I  sought  out  my  fate.  Lady  Mary  Pointsett, 
and  saw  her  just  behind  Mainwaring.  I  don't 
think  I  knew  anybody  else  there,  except  of 
course  by  sight.    The  Whitehavens  were  not 


230  MAINWAEING 

in  the  room — she  no  doubt  under  orders,  poor 
woman. 

Lady  Mary  had  no  use  for  me  yet  awhile,  so 
I  stood  and  considered  her  case.  I  knew  her 
very  slightly,  though  as  I  was  a  friend  of  her 
people  ^s  I  had  seen  her  dozens  of  times.  She 
was  very  pretty,  very  thin,  very  paje,  the  trans- 
lucent type  of  girl;  like  a  palpable  ghost,  if 
I  may  say  so.  Her  expression  changed  rapidly, 
as  her  thoughts  raced  in  her.  Sometimes  she 
looked  like  a  spirit  of  the  fire,  sometimes  like  a 
maid  of  the  mist,  sometimes  like  a  reproach. 
She  could  be  very  attractive,  had  beautiful  man- 
ners, facile  enthusiasms,  abundant  sensibility. 
With  all  that  she  might  have  passed  into  safe 
marriage  without  incurable  damage  but  for  the 
possession  of,  or  by,  a  theatrical  mind.  She 
had  a  theatrical  mind.  She  passioned  for  the 
great  gesture,  and  for  ever  saw  herself  filling 
the  parts  of  high  romance.  She  saw  herself  as 
the  deserted  wife,  or  abandoned  mistress,  so 
beautiful  and  so  touching  that  she  must  by  all 
means  find  the  necessary  blackguard.  Or  she 
was  Juliet,  and  hunting  a  Romeo ;  or  Charlotte 
Corday,  lacking  only  a  man  in  a  bath.  In  an 
evil  hour — and  I  don't  know  when  the  hour 
struck — she  saw  herself  the  muse  of  Mainwar- 


CUPS  231 

ing.  Recollection  of  the  Tragic  Comedians 
may  have  helped  her:  but  I  don't  think  she  read 
Meredith.  It  was  something  more  elementary 
than  that.  Mind  you,  it  is  right  to  say  that 
she  did  it  all  in  perfect  innocence.  What  she 
understood  about  her  mother's  position  I  have 
no  notion — but  the  fact  that  Mainwaring  was  a 
man  of  over  forty  and  herself  not  one-and- 
twenty  did  not  weigh  with  her  at  all.  She  did 
not  know  how  old  he  was.  He  was  a  romantic 
hero,  a  Tristram  to  her  Isoult ;  and  as  she  had  no 
moral  sense  whatever,  and  no  sense  of  humour 
either,  there  was  no  reason  why  she  should  sup- 
pose him  to  have  them — as  indeed  he  had  them 
not. 

How  should  she  have  any  moral  sense?  One 
must  get  it  from  somewhere,  and  probably  one 
sucks  it  in  at  one's  mother's  breast.  And  what 
did  she  get  at  her  mother's  breast?  I  looked 
about  me  with  a  kind  of  dismay  at  these  deli- 
cately-coloured, half-dressed  women,  so  extra- 
ordinarily good-looking,  so  liberal  of  their 
charms,  so  secure  in  themselves,  and  so  free 
of  themselves,  arrogating  so  easily  il  talento  as 
of  right.  Here  was  il  talento,  for  instance, 
lightly  accorded  to  this  silly  child  by  a  mother 
who — if  any  one  in  the  world — ^knew  what  Main- 


232  MAINWARINa 

waring  was.  It  was  done  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Mary  wanted  to  go,  and  must  go.  But  that  was 
the  way  of  it.  I  remember  the  utmost  word  of 
warning  I  ever  heard  Lady  Whitehaven  utter 
was,  *' Darling,  don't  catch  cold.''  That  was 
when  the  girl  (in  her  teens  at  the  time)  was 
slipping  out  into  the  thickets  at  Wimbledon 
with  a  man  called  Harry  Revel — a  rattling  ruf- 
fian who  had  lapped  up  women  as  a  cat  laps 
cream.  As  for  the  Duchess — I  remembered 
that  she  thought  it  comic.  This  was  the  set, 
this  was  the  world  in  which  I  now  found  myself 
— and  then,  where  I  stood,  I  had  a  vision  of 
Lizzy  in  her  maid's  black-and-white,  in  the 
kitchen  of  her  husband's  dark  house,  reading 
Walter  Scott  under  a  gas-jet!  Well,  I  may  be 
a  sentimentalist — I  believe  I  am — but  **a  sud- 
den spring  gushed  in  my  heart,"  and  I  blessed 
that  temperate,  beautiful,  recollected  creature. 
After  all,  as  I  have  said,  and  insist,  you  can 
only  fulfil  the  laws  of  your  being.  If  you  defy 
them  you  are  a  monster ;  if  you  obey  them,  you 
justify  Nature.  And  what  are  the  laws  of  be- 
ing? I  know  but  two.  To  work  and  to  have 
children.  Fulfil  those  faithfully,  and  you  are 
beautiful.    And  woe  to  who  hinders  you ! 


CUPS  233 

They  began  to  go  down,  so  I  presented  myself 
to  my  fate.  *^A  poor  substitute  for  the  hero  of 
the  day/'  I  said,  but  she  accepted  me  gra- 
ciously, and  began  to  talk  about  the  case,  and  to 
ask  me  about  Mainwaring  until  I  was  sick  of  the 
very  name  of  him.  It  was  not  until  my  in- 
fatuated partner  left  me  that  anything  occurred 
worth  recording.  Immediately  the  women  were 
out  of  the  room  the  Prime  Minister  picked  up 
his  glass  of  claret  and  carried  it  off  with  him 
to  the  society  of  a  young  fellow  of  Ballidl,  and 
of  Constantine  Jess,  who  was  in  his  Cabinet  as 
President  of  the  Board  of  Trade,  and  whom, 
Lady  Mary  had  told  me,  Mainwaring  was  to  suc- 
ceed. Jess  was  to  go  to  the  House  of  Lords  for 
that  purpose.  That  might  or  might  not  be;  but 
so  far  as  I  had  seen  the  great  man  had  not 
thrown  a  word  to  Mainwaring  all  dinner  time. 
He  certainly  had  nothing  to  say  to  him  now. 
He  began  a  discussion  about  Mykenae  and  the 
French  excavations  in  Delos,  which  occupied 
him  till  a  late  hour. 

Mainwaring,  after  sitting  silent  for  some 
time,  presently  beckoned  to  me  to  sit  by  him — 
which  I  unwillingly  did.  I  congratulated  him 
upon  the  result,  and  thought  he  took  it  with 


234  MAINWARINa 

bravado.  ^' Pshaw — it  was  child's  play.  The 
thing  was  too  easy.  But  the  cream  of  the  joke 
is  to  come.^^ 

I  asked  him  what  was  coming,  and  he  said, 
**I  shall  have  him  before  the  Speaker  in  two  or 
three  days.  That  ought  to  be  the  end  of  him.'' 
He  said  then  that  he  had  been  waiting  for  him 
these  two  years.  I  asked  him  how  he  had  found 
Headworth,  and  he  stared  at  me.  '*  Head- 
worth  !  Why,  I  knew  he  was  there  all  the  time. 
Headworth  is  a  nincompoop.  But  Copestake's 
worth  having.  I  Ve  done  more  for  the  Govern- 
ment than  they  Ve  ever  done  for  me. ' ' 

He  had  been  drinking  more  than  enough ;  but 
filled  and  emptied  his  glass,  and  went  glooming 
on.  I  could  see  that  some  devilish  rat  was 
gnawing  at  his  vitals,  and  that  he  drank  so  that 
he  might  buy  oblivion.  Every  now  and  again 
he  shook  his  head,  as  if  to  shake  his  misery 
from  his  ears.     Once  he  groaned. 

^* Aren't  you  well?"  I  asked  him,  and  he 
turned  me  faded  eyes. 

^'I'm  in  hell,"  he  said,  ^'and  have  been  this 
three  months.  And  can't  move  hand  or  foot  to 
help  myself. ' ' 

That  was  as  near  as  he  had  ever  gone  to 
speaking  to  me  of  his  trouble.    I  didn't  want 


CUPS  235 

to  hear  it,  so  made  no  answer.  He  took  no  no- 
tice of  my  silence,  except  to  change  the  sub- 
ject. 

''That  wasn't  what  I  wanted  to  see  you  about 
though. '^ 

''I  can't  help  you  there,''  I  said,  and  he  stared 
angrily,  as  if  I  had  forgotten  myself. 

''I  wanted  to  ask  you  why  you  have  left  off 
coming  to  my  house."  If  I  was  in  for  it,  I 
would  go  straight  in. 

''I  can't  go  to  your  house,"  I  said,  *'if  your 
wife  is  to  open  the  door  to  me." 

He  lifted  his  eyebrows  high,  and  looked  at 
the  wine-glass  twirling  between  finger  and 
thumb. 

''Poor  girl!  She  feels  it.  She  is  forsaken 
by  everybody." 

I  said,  ' '  By  you  first,  I  think. ' ' 

"You 're  right  there.  But  I  could  do  no  more 
than  offer  her  the  head  of  the  table.  You  are 
witness  that  I  offered  her  that." 

I  replied  with  heat,  "I  have  been  witness  of 
more  than  I  cared  to  see.  I  was  present  with 
Lady  Whitehaven  in  your  wife's  room  when  you 
came  down  and  made  a  scene.  Do  you  think  she 
can  sit  at  your  table  when  that  may  be  done  at 
it!" 


236  MAINWARING 

He  took  no  notice.  **I  wish  that  you,  Whit- 
worth,  would  come  and  stay  with  me  for  a  time. 
It  would  oblige  me/'    He  staggered  me. 

**It  might,''  I  said.  '*But  it  would  oblige 
nobody  else.  The  thing  is  out  of  the  question. 
You  don't  know  what  you  are  asking.  At  least, 
I  hope  not." 

It  was  hardly  believable  that  he  hoped  to  re- 
lieve some  strain  on  himself  by  putting  one 
upon  Lizzy — ^yet  that  was  what  he  was  doing. 
There  was  nothing  in  the  world  that  Main- 
waring  would  not  attempt  if  he  desired  to  re- 
move something  from  his  path.  I  did  not  real- 
ize that  at  the  time,  and  the  idea  I  had  was  that 
he  wanted  to  get  Lady  Whitehaven  to  the  house 
without  protest — which  though  mute  would 
have  been  sensible  to  him — from  Lizzy.  He 
thought  (so  I  had  it  then)  that  if  she  had  a 
lover  of  her  own  she  would  be  *^ estopped,"  as 
the  lawyers  say,  from  objecting  to  one  of  his. 
That,  of  course,  was  much  too  subtle  for  him. 
He  went  at  hindrances  head  down,  like  a  bull. 
The  fact  was,  he  hoped  that  I  should  run  away 
with  her.  There  he  was  a  fool,  for  not  know- 
ing Lizzy  better;  but  in  his  present  mood  of 
baffled  longing  he  was  nothing  but  a  fool. 

He  must  really  have  expected  that  I  should 


CUPS  237 

accept  his  proposal,  f  o-/  he  seemed  quite  out  of 
heart  for  a  time.  He  drank  again,  without 
relish  and  to  his  visible  deterioration.  He 
flushed  as  much  as  so  white  a  man  could,  and 
his  eyes  looked  hot,  as  if  there  was  thunder  in 
them.  He  spoke  to  me — ^but  I  don't  think  he 
knew  who  I  was. 

*  *  You  see  how  it  is — and  how  it  has  been  three 
weeks.  That  barber's  block  keeps  her  under 
lock  and  key.  She  was  brought  to  the  court  and 
fetched  away  again.  She  won't  speak  to  me,  or 
open  the  door  to  me — she  dare  not.  And  I  who 
have  emptied  my  life  into  her  lap !  Flesh-and- 
blood  can't  stand  it.  I'm  not  to  be  made  a  fool 
of.  You  know  better.  Let  her  know  it.  Let 
her  choose  between  a  man  and  a  kissing-stick. 
Gerald  Gorges  is  about  the  age  of  that  child 
upstairs.  I  was  brought  up  in  a  country  where 
men  coped  with  men.  Women  were  fought  for 
— but  how  can  you  fight  a  thing  in  stays  !  I  am 
going  there  now — I'll  not  be  trifled  with.  If 
she  refuses  me  she  shall  rue  it.  I  have  black 
Irish  in  me — black  Irish  blood — and  it  was  dis- 
tilled in  Provence.  That's  a  potent  liquor,  let 
me  tell  you.  A  drop  of  that  will  scald.  Let  her 
be  careful — a  woman  who  plays  with  a  heart 
like  mine.    By  God,  sir — "  he  raised  his  head 


238  MAINWARINa 

and  his  voice  rose  with  it — *4f  I  Ve  taught  your 
Parliament  to  believe  in  me,  am  I  to  be  scorned 
by  a  piece  of  rosy  flesh?'' 

**Shut  up,  man,  for  heaven's  sake,"  I  said. 
'^They  are  looking  at  you." 

He  growled.  ^^Let  them  look.  They  shall 
look  longer  yet. ' '  His  beard  sank  to  his  shirt- 
front.     He  was  very  drunk. 

The  Prime  Minister  rose,  and  Lord  Miln- 
thorpe,  who  was  acting  host  for  his  father,  rose 
too,  not  mthout  a  sacred  eye  for  Mainwaring. 
** Drunk,  eh?"  he  said  to  me  as  he  passed. 
*^Will  you  look  after  him!"  I  nodded.  They 
all  went  up.  I  got  Mainwaring  some  soda- 
water.  He  asked  for  brandy  in  it,  and  I  gave 
it  him.  He  mixed  it  stiff,  and  tossed  it  down. 
It  seemed  to  revive  him. 

*'Tell  Molly  I'm  going,"  he  said.  ''I'll  wait 
here." 

''I'm  damned  if  I  will,"  I  said.  He  lifted 
his  head  in  astonishment,  and  stared  at  me.  Up 
he  got,  steady  as  a  rock,  put  his  head  down, 
tossed  it  up,  and  left  the  room.  Straight  as  a 
die.  He  went  upstairs;  for  I  heard  him,  and 
into  the  great  gallery;  for  I  heard  the  door 
slam  behind  him.  For  myself,  I  was  sick  to 
death  of  him,  of  them,  of  life  itself.     I  went  out 


CUPS  239 

into  the  hall,  got  my  coat  and  hat,  and  escaped. 
For  a  moment,  under  the  stair,  I  stopped.  I 
had  a  horror  of  what  he  would  be  at  with  that 
unhappy  child.  But  whatever  it  was,  could  I 
have  done  anything  to  prevent  it?  I  knew  I 
could  do  nothing. 


XIX 

CLIMAX 

THE  very  next  afternoon  this  remarkable 
man  rose  in  a  crowded  House  to  make  a 
** personal''  explanation.  I  didn't  hear  him — 
had  had  no  idea  it  was  to  be  so  soon — ^but  it 
certainly  read  unconamonly  well.  He  had  in  a 
high  degree  the  power  of  lucent,  unadorned  ex- 
pression. Boaster  as  he  was,  and  blackguard 
as  he  was,  he  never  boasted  in  the  House,  and 
without  cant  he  was  able  to  conceal  his  black- 
guardry.  His  humour,  which  was  biting  and 
bitter  too — that  is,  left  an  acrid  after-taste — 
never  spared  himself.  He  was  pleased  to  make 
merry  over  his  exploits  in  Trafalgar  Square; 
but  for  him,  he  said,  the  police  might  not  have 
been  able  to  get  their  helmets  on  again,  ^^for  a 
dog  when  it  is  angry  goes  for  the  head."  Just 
so,  without  excusing  himself  or  seeking  to  avoid 
reproach,  he  was  able  to  explain  all  his  barri- 
cade performances.  That  great  meeting  on  the 
Embankment,  for  instance,  when  he  went  down 
to  the  House  at  the  head  of  a  howling  horde 

240 


CLIMAX  241 

some  thousands  strong — he  had  led  them  at  the 
double  to  the  very  gates  of  Palace  Yard,  and 
then  switched  them  off  into  Westminster,  and 
^^to  God  knew  where,  but  he  himself  did  not.'' 
As  he  put  it,  he  had  invariable  saved  the  Queen's 
peace ;  and  yet  he  was  able,  while  demonstrating 
that,  to  make  it  perfectly  clear  that,  in  his  opin- 
ion the  hordes  and  mobs  of  hungry,  ill-washed 
men  had  griefs  of  their  own,  with  which  he, 
Mainwaring,  was  in  sympathy.  On  Culgaith 
he  must  have  been  most  moving,  for  I  believe — 
however  he  started  the  thing — he  had  been  true 
of  heart  afterwards,  from  what  I  saw  of  him 
there;  and  it  is  very  certain  that  he  did  keep 
the  colliers  there  within  bounds,  and  did  obtain 
them,  by  his  own  power,  their  just  demands. 
So  did  he  deal  with  the  recent  affair  at  Jar- 
row,  making  it  appear  (which  may  have  been 
true)  that  the  trouble  was  on  the  point  of  settle- 
ment when  it  was  upset  by  *Hhe  blundering  in- 
tromission of  a  self-seeking  knave."  Then  he 
turned  to  the  ^'self-seeking  knave"  and  hit 
out  straight  from  the  shoulder.  He  let  him- 
self go  about  **the  ways  of  new  Journalism  as 
expounded  by  a  practitioner  of  repute."  He 
repeated  the  conversation  between  principal  and 
agent  on  that  evening  in  Cadogan  Gardens,  and 


242  MAINWARING 

then  he  said,  **Sir,  in  the  present  state  of  the 
public  appetite  it  becomes  the  House,  as  I  con- 
ceive, to  uphold  the  sanitary  laws.  A  public 
fed  upon  lies  will  be  a  lying  public ;  a  publican 
who  feeds  them  on  lies  for  his  own  vile  purposes 
should  not  be  suffered  to  exist.  It  matters 
little  whether  I  or  another  stand  in  his  way, 
whether  I  or  another  go  souse  into  the  mud  he 
has  fouled  for  us.  But  it  matters  very  greatly 
how  the  people  are  fed;  and  it  matters  very 
greatly  how  the  Government  of  this  country  and 
the  Parliament  whose  servant  it  is  are  repre- 
sented and  reported  abroad.  Let  nothing  true 
be  hid;  let  there  be  no  screens.  We  are  not 
here  to  masquerade  as  patriots.  But  let  no  dis- 
torting glasses  be  used,  which  may  swell  me 
out  to  a  bladder  of  fraud,  or  attenuate  another 
to  a  crooked  stick  of  iniquity.  Let  us  be  honest 
in  our  dealings  with  them  we  are  hired  to 
serve. ' '  And  so  on.  He  ended  by  thanking  the 
House  for  hearing  him  in  justification  of  him- 
self. He  was  warmly  cheered  when  he  sat 
down.     ** Loud  cheers,'' my  paper  said. 

The  Prime  Minister  followed  him  at  some 
length.  He  was  always  to  long  for  me;  his 
principle  of  oratory  was,  never  use  one  word 
where  three  will  do;  and  if  he  had  another  it 


CLIMAX  243 

was — take  a  notion,  and  divide  it  into  three 
heads.  All  this  he  did,  tediously,  but  with  the 
noble  sincerity  which  was  a  part  of  his  character 
and  made  William  Hardman  a  great  man. 
Long  as  he  was,  there  was  no  doubt  but  he  took 
a  serious  view  of  the  case.  He  proposed  that 
the  printer  and  publisher  should  be  called  up 
to  the  bar  of  the  House  to  be  reprimanded  by 
Mr.  Speaker;  and  it  would  appear  that  the 
House  was  of  his  mind.  But  it  was  necessary 
that  the  leader  of  the  Opposition  should  put  in 
his  word — and  so  he  did. 

^^Mk.  Bentivoglio  deprecated  the  proposal. 
He  thought  that  the  honourable  gentleman's 
honour  had  been  sufficiently  vindicated  by  the 
apology,  his  reputation  adequately  established 
by  the  exemplary  damages  awarded.  He  must 
say  that  he  did  not  consider  the  House  to  be 
the  proper  place  for  the  recriminations  of  rival 
pleaders,  or  the  exultation  of  the  successful  over 
his  fallen  adversary.  Such  exultations  might 
suit  a  farmyard,  but  not  the  Senate.  Although 
he  did  not  defend  the  intransigeance  of  the  pub- 
lic Press,  he  could  not  approve  any  more  of  the 
interference  of  the  Administration  in  private 
trade  disputes.  It  was  said  that  Government 
works  were  endangered,  but  was  not  that  a  mat- 


244  MAINWAEING 

ter  for  his  honourable  friend  at  the  Board  of 
Trade!  And  was  it  a  healthy  precedent  to 
select  a  private  member  of  the  calibre  of  the 
honourable  member  for  Skilaw  to  treat  with  pro- 
fessional agitators  not  so  fortunately  seated? 

'^Mr.  Mainwabing  begged  pardon.  But  did 
the  right  honourable  gentleman  assert  that  he 
was  a  professional  agitator  1 

**Me.  Bentivoglio  withdrew  the  expression 
*  professional.'  Whether  the  hon.  gentleman 
was  an  agitator  or  not  was  a  matter  of  judg- 
ment. It  depended  upon  what  an  agitator 
was.  To  his  mind  he  was  free  to  confess,  an 
agitator  was  one  who  agitated  other  people. 

*'Mr.  Mainwaeing.  As  the  right  honourable 
gentleman  is  now  doing.  (Mr.  Bentivoglio 
made  no  reply.)'' 

He  would  not.  I  can  see  him  now,  sitting 
with  his  arms  folded,  his  weary  eyes  closed 
down. 

Nevertheless  the  Prime  Minister  carried  the 
House  with  him.  Sir  John  Copestake  and  his 
printers  attended  with  the  Sergeant-at-Arms, 
and  with  lowered  heads  received  a  wigging  from 
the  Speaker  in  his  most  shocked  and  solemn 
manner.  That  followed  in  due  course ;  and  so,  I 
may  say  in  advance,  followed  in  a  more  leisurely 


CLIMAX  245 

manner  the  translation  of  Mr.  Constantine  Jess 
to  the  House  of  Lords,  and  the  presidency  of  the 
Board  of  Trade  to  Mr.  E.  D.  B.  Mainwaring. 
But  Eichard  Damn-to-Blazes  was  not  there  yet, 
and  was  not  there  long.  My  record  now 
hastens  to  its  climax. 


XX 

CRY  FEOM   CAVENDISH   SQUARE 

I  THINK  it  came  in  January ;  I  know  it  was 
after  Christmas,  which  I  had  spent  at  Wes- 
ton with  my  sister.  I  had  seen  nothing  of 
Mainwaring,  and  heard  little  except  rumours 
that  he  was  going  to  be  taken  into  the  Cabinet ; 
I  had  seen  nothing  of  his  exalted  acquaintance, 
who  of  course  were  away  from  London. 
Lizzy  still  wrote  for  books.  She  was  tackling 
Shakespeare,  by  her  own  request.  From  her 
I  got  very  little.  *^Mr.  M.  had  been  away  all 
this  week  at  a  Conference,  or  something,  at 
Leeds.''  That  was  the  kind  of  thing.  Or 
*^The  Duchess  and  Lady  Mary  were  here  to 
dinner.  I  hated  it. ' '  I  remember  that,  and  re- 
member wondering  how  she  could  stand  it. 
But  I  think  she  was  too  proud  to  tell  me  any- 
thing definite.  I  don't  believe  she  could  have 
brought  herself  to  write  the  words  down  which 
would  say  what  she  really  thought  was  going 
on.  Imagine  that  decent,  reticent,  law-abiding 
girl  face  to  face,  behind  his  chair,  with  Mary 

246 


CEY  FROM  CAVENDISH  SQUARE  247 

Pointsett's  talento  iiiiabashedly  displayed,  and 
Mainwaring's  flagrant  indifference  to  surround- 
ings, and  the  shallow  bonhomie  of  the  royster- 
ing  Duchess  of  Leven!  Imagine  her  judgment 
of  the  display,  her  scorn  of  the  women  in  it,  her 
resentment  for  the  man  who  had  dragged  her 
into  such  a  world.  Then,  after  the  House  had 
risen,  **M.  has  gone  to  stay  at  Bigbury,  the 
Duke's  place.  This  house  is  very  quiet.  It 
suits  me. ' ' 

I  received  that  at  Weston,  and  just  about  then 
I  heard — my  sister  read  it  out  of  a  letter  she 
had — that  the  Whitehavens  were  staying  with 
another  Duke — him  of  Kendal,  who  was  Lord 
Gerald's  brother.  Agatha  asked  me  if  I  knew 
them.  I  said  I  had  met  Gerald  Gorges,  and 
thought  him  too  good-looking  to  live,  and  too 
stupid  not  to.  She  asked  me  what  I  meant,  and 
I  said,  ^ '  Oh,  too  stupid  to  know  that  he  ought  to 
be  killed."  My  brother-in-law  said  that  that 
sounded  rather  a  profane  remark,  and  Agatha 
added,  ^'I  suppose  you  mean  that  he's  always 
about  with  her,  I  thought  he  was  going  to 
marry  Mary ;  but  it  can 't  be  that,  because  she 's 
not  there."  Then  I  was  sure  she  was  at  Big- 
bury, and  that  the  Duchess  still  hankered  after 
the  comic.     Well,  that's  all  that  I  knew  until 


248  MAINWAEING 

I  went  back  to  town ;  and  then,  out  of  the  blue, 
I  had  a  note  from  Lady  Whitehaven,  delivered 
by  hand.  *'My  dear  Mr.  Whiteworth,  I'm  in 
town  and  quite  alone.  Do  come  to  see  me.  I 
am  in  horrible  perplexity  and  don't  know  how 
to  act  for  the  best.  The  sooner  the  better,  as  I 
am  flying  off  again  as  soon  as  I  can.  May  it 
be  tomorrow?  About  five?  We  shall  not  be 
disturbed.  Yours  most  distractedly,  K.  W." 
I  sent  an  answer  back  by  the  groom  who  was 
waiting,  that  I  would  not  fail.  Of  course  I 
knew  what  she  wanted  me  to  do,  and  equally 
certainly  that  I  neither  could  nor  would  do  any- 
thing at  all.  Let  Gerald  Gorges  work  for  what 
Gerald  Gorges  wanted.  I  must  say  that,  then, 
I  had  no  kind  of  sympathy  for  this  netted 
Aphrodite. 

However,  whatever  I  may  be  made  of,  it  is 
not  imperishable  bronze,  and  I  was  sorry  for 
her  when  I  saw  her.  I  was  expected,  for  an 
elderly  woman  in  a  black  lace  cap  opened  the 
door  to  me  before  the  bell  had  ceased  to  peal, 
and  taking  my  coat  from  me,  asked  me  to  fol- 
low her.  We  went  upstairs — the  house  had  a 
swathed  appearance — and  I  was  ushered  into  a 
little  pale-blue  room  with  pink  china  about,  and 
a  pastel  of  the  Duchess,  and  there  found  my 


CRY  FROM  CAVENDISH  SQUARE  249 

lady  with  feverishly  bright  eyes,  looking  other- 
wise rather  pinched.  The  tea  was  there,  and 
she  poured  it  out  at  once.  '*You  see  I  counted 
on  your  punctuality,'^  she  said.  She  was  posi- 
tively shy;  I  suppose  in  view  of  what  she  had 
to  tell  me. 

But  we  did  not  get  at  it  at  once.  She  talked 
of  indifferent  things — her  family,  my  family, 
Christmas  in  the  country  and  all  the  rest  of  it, 
in  a  way  which  those  people  have,  and  will  have, 
I  don't  doubt,  on  the  Last  Day,  when  the  trum- 
pet shall  have  sounded,  and  they  are  waiting  for 
their  turn  at  the  Assize.  Did  not  the  noblesse 
pay  their  compliments  and  crack  their  little 
jokes  in  the  tumbril?  I  was  never  good  at  that 
kind  of  thing— but  I  did  my  best— but,  by  some 
ridiculous  fate,  whatever  I  said  was  bound  to 
bring  us  up  sharp  at  Mainwaring  or  his  wife. 
I  remember  that  my  temples  beaded  with  the 
work. 

At  last  she  saw  it,  and  really  laughed. 
** There  seems  no  escape  from  him!  But  you 
know,  of  course,  that  I  could  only  want  to  talk 
to  you  about  that. ' ' 

*^Well,''  I  said,  ^^I  thought  it  possible—'' 

**You  see,  I  knew  you  were  a  friend  of  his — 
I  suppose  his  oldest  friend  up  here." 


250  MAINWAEINa 

'^Anywhere,  I  should  think.  I  don't  think  he 
is  a  man  who  can  count  his  friends  as  an  asset.'' 

She  sighed.  *^No,  no.  He  is  not  like  that. 
He  doesn't  want  friends:  he  wants  subjects, 
creatures!  That  was  my  dreadfully  unfortu- 
nate mistake. ' ' 

*^I  am  sure  it  was  a  generous  mistake."  She 
gave  me  a  dewy  glance.  ^^How  kind  of  you! 
And  I  think  I  may  accept  it.  I  do  indeed.  Of 
course — I  admit  it  fully — I  have  been  very 
foolish — " 

*^Your  first  act  to  him  was  one  of  kindness. 
He  was  in  prison,  wasn't  hel" 

*  *He  was  just  out.  I  had  written  to  him  when 
he  was  in  prison,  but  he  had  not  answered. 
Then  I  met  him  at  Lady  Mainprise's — at 
luncheon.  It  was  pitiful  to  see.  He  ate  like  a 
wolf — but  his  eyes!  I  assure  you  I  dreamed 
about  them.  .  .  .  They  seemed  to  go  through 
one.  Like  swords."  She  shut  her  own  for  a 
moment — then,  blushing  like  a  girl,  she  said  to 
me,  ^^You  know  I  am  afraid  of  him.  He  can 
do  what  he  likes  when  he  looks  at  me." 

I  guessed  that. —  It  seemed  to  me  it  would 
do  good  if  I  used  her  confession  as  a  text. 

^ '  I  'm  afraid  he 's  pretty  bad,  you  know.  Re- 
member that  I  know  him  well.     He  is  strong, 


CRY  FROM  CAVENDISH  SQUARE      251 

and  without  any  sort  of  conscience.  I  daresay 
that  he  bewitched  you  at  first.  I  only  hope  you 
will  be  careful  he  doesn't  bewitch  Lady  Mary.'' 

She  hadn't  expected  that  at  all,  and  even 
now  she  was  so  full  of  her  own  troubles  that 
it  had  no  effect  upon  her.  She  opened  her  eyes 
wide. 

*  ^  Molly ! ' '  she  said.  *  *  Oh,  dear  no,  there 's  no 
trouble  there.  She  is  romantic,  of  course,  high- 
flown  and  school-girlish.  But  he  doesn't  think 
about  her.  He  only  talks  to  her  because  he 
thinks  that  if  he  does  he  can  come  here.  She  is 
often  at  my  sister's,  and  he  brings  her  home. 
Then  of  course  he  has  to  come  in.  But  I 
couldn't  very  well  keep  Molly  away.  My  sis- 
ter would  want  to  have  explanations.  There 
would  be  a  fuss.  And  there  is  fuss  enough  as 
it  is."  She  broke  off  abruptly  and  then  said 
rather  wildly,  **Mr.  Whitworth,  it  can't  go  on. 
It  is  making  me  ill.  He  pursues  me  everywhere 
— makes  scenes — expects  outrageous  things. 
My  friends  notice  it — how  can  they  help  it?  I 
don't  know  what  I  am  to  do — I  might  go  abroad 
— ^but  that  would  be  very  difficult  just  now. 
And — oh,  no,  I  couldn't  go  abroad  just  yet.  I 
have  had  to  tell  the  servants  that  I'm  never  at 
home  to   him — and   of   course   they  know.    I 


252  MAINWARINa 

Hardly  dare  go  out  at  all.  He  goes  everywhere 
— wherever  I  am.  He  finds  out — if  he  doesn't 
know  the  house,  he  waits  outside — and  follows 
me.  It  is  a  persecution.  And  my  friends — one 
in  particular — a  dear  friend  of  mine — " 

I  thought  I  would  risk  it.  * '  Lord  Gerald  V  1 
asked.  She  blushed  again  strongly,  and  looked 
down.  She  hung  her  head  like  a  girl.  ^'Yes,  I 
mean  Lord  Gerald.  He  has  begged  me  not  to 
have  anything  more  to  do  with  him.  He  has  in- 
sisted— '^ 

I  said,  *' Couldn't  Lord  Gerald  carry  your 
wishes  to  Mainwaring?" 

She  stared  at  me,  but  then  recovered  herself. 
*^I  don't  think  he  could  very  well.  You  see, 
they  have  never  spoken.  They  disliked  each 
other  at  first  sight." 

I  wasn't  at  all  surprised,  but  it  seemed  to  me 
proper  to  insist. 

^'That  I  understand,"  I  said.  ^^But  they 
have  been  introduced,  of  course — they  met  on 
your  yacht,  I  think  I  In  any  case,  it  is  hardly 
a  matter  for  much  ceremony,  surely.  One 
thing  is  certain.  If  their  positions  were  re- 
versed I  am  positive  that  Mainwaring  would 
speak  to  him,  sans  fagon." 

I  suppose  I  ought  not  to  have  said  it.    I  did 


CEY  FEOM  CAVENDISH  SQUARE     253 

not  realize  at  the  moment  what  was  unhappily 
the  case  that,  just  as  Mainwaring  desired  the 
favours  of  this  lady,  so  did  she  desire  those  of 
Gerald  Gorges.  He  was  in  a  strong  position 
therefore. 

She  showed  her  sense  of  that,  poor  woman.  I 
felt  very  sorry  for  her.  She  bit  her  lower  lip, 
and  then  said  rather  shortly,  but  finally : 

** Gerald  declines  to  interfere.'* 

After  that  she  broke  down  altogether,  let  her 
tears  brim  and  fall,  and  became  what  she  had 
never  allowed  herself  to  be  in  my  company,  a 
woman  rather  than  a  countess.  She  told  me 
what  had  happened  before  Christmas — what 
had  determined  her  to  invoke  my  help — *^If  I 
had  not  gone  away  the  next  day  I  don't  think  I 
could  have  held  my  head  up  again.'' 

It  had  been  at  a  party — a  large  one — I  forget 
where  she  said  it  was.  There  was  dancing — 
** Thank  God  the  chicks  weren't  there.  I  had 
sent  them  off  the  day  before" — dancing  going 
on  in  one  room,  and  a  crowd  of  people  at  the 
door  leading  to  the  next.  In  that  other  room 
were  the  dowagers.  There  were  card-tables  in 
there.  She  was  in  the  dancing-room,  had  been 
dancing  indeed,  and  was  standing  at  the  further 
end  from  the  staircase,  with  her  partner,  when 


254  MAINWARING 

she  saw  Mainwaring  come  in  and  look  about 
him.  ^^He  is  so  tall,  you  can  see  him  directly. 
Oh,  he  looked  perfectly  dreadful.  I  'm  afraid — 
in  fact,  I  know — he  had  been — you  know  he  does. 
He  was  deadly  white,  and  you  couldn't  see  his 
eyes  at  all — only  dark  hollows  where  they 
ought  to  have  been.  He  stood  there  gnawing 
his  lip — I  saw  his  beard  working  about.  Some 
one  spoke  to  him — but  he  took  no  notice.  He 
kept  looking  about,  working  his  chin.  I  was 
shaking — I  couldn  't  help  it — and  Jemmy  Laxby 
saw  me,  and  asked  me  what  was  the  matter. 
And  then  he  saw  me.  He  put  his  head  down, 
as  if  some  one  had  hit  him,  and  then  threw  it 
up  with  a  jerk,  and  came  straight  through  the 
dancers,  as  if  he  was  wading  through  them — as 
if  they  were  a  river  in  flood.  I  was  cloven  to 
my  place.  He  came  straight  to  me — stood  over 
me — and  I  saw  his  eyes  shining.  He  said,  *I 
must  speak  to  you  at  once.'  I  said,  ^Well,  it 
can't  be  here,'  and  left  Jemmy  where  he  was. — 
There  was  no  time  to  think  of  him  or  anybody. 
I  went  into  the  room  where  all  the  dowagers 
were — I  knew  them  all,  of  course.  He  followed 
me,  and  there — in  the  middle  of  them — under 
the  chandelier — he  poured  out  the  most  extra- 
ordinary things — How  he  had  loved  me  madly, 


CEY  FEOM  CAVENDISH  SQUAEE     255 

how  he  had  worked  for  my  sake — how  cruel  I 
was — What  had  he  done  to  offend  me  ?     He  said 
he  would  go  on  his  knees,  there,  then — if  I  would 
speak  one  word  to  him.     He  said  he  was  dying 
— that  he  had  had  a  hemorrhage  that  morning — 
he  looked  ghastly — oh,  dreadful —   Well,  I  don't 
know  what  I  said,  or  what  saved  me — but  I  saw 
dear  old  Lady  Heroncourt,  and  went  to  her.    I 
took  her  hand,  and  sat  by  her.     She  made  room 
on  her  stool.     Of  course  everybody  had  heard 
everything — but  they  went  on  as  if  nothing  out 
of  the  way  had  occurred.    He  was  still  under 
the   chandelier,   looking   at   me — muttering   to 
himself.     Then,  thank  God,  my  husband  came 
in,  and  took  me  away.    I  was  nearly  dead  of 
it. ' '    She  was  nearly  dead  with  the  recollection 
of  it,  poor  soul ;  sank  back,  shut  her  eyes,  rested 
her  cheek  against  the  chair,  and  put  up  her 
feet.    I  didn't  know  whether  she  was  going  to 
faint  or  to  sleep.     She  looked  very  pretty  there 
— ten  years  younger  than  she  could  have  been, 
and  as  relaxed  and  innocent  as  a  tired  girl. 
I  didn't  say  anything — what  was  there  to  say? 
— and  I  believed  she  really  went  to  sleep  for  a 
few  minutes. 

Then  she  opened  her  eyes — I  could  only  see 
one  of  them — saw  me  sideways,  and  sat  up. 


256  MAINWARING 

**I'm  so  sorry.  I  am  awfully  tired.  But  you 
know  why  I  wanted  to  see  you  now — don't 
you?'' 

I  said  that  I  did.  I  said  that  I  would  see 
Mainwaring  as  soon  as  he  came  back.  Did  she 
know  when  that  would  be?  He  was  at  Bigbury, 
I  believed. 

She  said — her  voice  was  worn  now  and  old — 
**Yes,  he  is  with  my  sister.  He  writes  to  me 
every  day  nearly.  I  never  answer — but  he  al- 
ways writes.  He  says  that  he  shall  come  back 
as  soon  as  I  do." 

*^ Really,"  I  said,  ^*I  do  think  your  best  plan 
will  be  not  to  come  back." 

She  said,  ^^But  I  must.  I  can't  keep  Molly 
in  the  country  for  long.  And  the  House  meets 
in  February — and  Jack  always  likes  to  be  up 
for  that.    He  goes,  you  know." 

Then  I  had  another  scheme.  **It  might  be 
worked  through  Lizzy.  I  don't  mean  to  put  it 
all  on  to  her.  You  have  asked  me  to  help — and 
I'll  do  what  I  can.  It  won't  amount  to  much, 
you  know.  He's  a  great  man,  now,  and  I  am 
a  nobody.  He'll  simply  scorn  me.  But  still — 
I'll  have  a  shot.  But  if  Lizzy  could  be  brought 
in—" 

She  thought  of  that.     **How  could  one  bring 


CEY  FEOM  CAVENDISH  SQUAEE  257 

her  in?  She's  a  dear  girl,  and  I'm  very  fond 
of  her — but  I  don't  know  that  I  could  quite — " 

^^She  has  a  great  heart,  that  girl,"  I  said. 
^*I  am  sure  that  if  she  were  sorry  for  you — " 

Poor  Lady  Whitehaven  smiled — a  wry  and 
rueful  smile  it  was.  ^^I'm  afraid  she  would 
more  probably  be  angry — don't  you  think?" 

1  didn't  think  so.  I  didn't  think  Lizzy  was 
a  jealous  woman.  But  I  daresay  Lady  White- 
haven knew  what  I  felt  for  Lizzy.  I  said,  *  *  No, 
I  don't  agree  with  you.  I  think  she  would  help 
you  if  you  told  her  something  of  what  you  have 
told  me.  If  I  may  say  so,  the  more  frank  you 
are  with  Lzzy,  the  more  warmly  she'll  help.  I 
don't  believe  Main  waring  wants  her  to  leave 
him,  and  I  know  that  she  has  thought  of  it.  Of 
course  she  sees  what  he  is  doing.  She  is  natur- 
ally shrewd.  She  knows  him  through  and 
through.  Well,  my  idea  is  that  if  she  told  him 
that  she  should  leave  him — and  she  wouldn't 
tell  him  so  unless  she  meant  it — it  would  have  a 
great  effect  upon  him." 

She  became  very  thoughtful  over  it,  and  fi- 
nally said  that  she  would  probably  see  Lizzy  as 
soon  as  she  came  back.  She  thanked  me  very 
touchingly  for  being  so  kind,  as  she  called  it. 
If  I  had  been  kind,  she  had  made  me  so. 


258  MAINWARING 

Going  out,  I  admit  I  was  chilled  somewhat  in 
my  ardour.  Lord  Gerald  was  on  the  doorstep 
as  I  went  out  into  the  frost.  He  looked  at  me 
full,  without  recognition,  and  went  into  the 
house  without  an  enquiry.  He,  too,  it  seemed, 
was  expected.  It  seemed  to  me  rather  a  case. 
I  wondered  how  she  had  known  how  long  I 
should  be.  When  I  looked  at  my  watch  I  had 
been  there  two  hours. 


XXI 

SICK-BED 

WELL,  and  then,  just  as  we  were  conspir- 
ing to  snuff  him  out,  he  fell  ill.    It  was 
after  the  New  Year's  List,  which  announced  that 
Her  Majesty  had  been  pleased  to  confer  a  peer- 
age of  the  United  Kingdom  on,  among  others, 
the  Eight  Hon.  Constantine  Jess,  M.  P.,  Presi- 
dent of  the  Board  of  Trade :  yes,  it  was  when 
he  was   in   full   view   of  his   promised   land. 
Lizzy  had  a  letter  from  the  Duchess — no,  a 
telegram  first,  addressed  to  *^  Mathews,  Montagu 
Square,''  and  then  a  letter,  saying  that  the 
Duchess  of  Leven  was  uneasy  about  Mr.  Main- 
waring,  who  was  ill  at  Bigsbury  Castle,  and  anx- 
ious that  Elizabeth  Mathews  should  come  and 
attend  him.     Directions  were  given  as  to  what 
E.  Mathews  was  to  do;  and  she  was  told  that 
she  would  be  met  at  the  station.     Lizzy  wrote 
me  this  before  she  started,  enclosing  the  letter. 
It  seemed  to  me  an  insult  prepared  by  her  hus- 
band for  his  own  ulterior  purposes.     My  good 
girl   didn't   take   it   so.    But   she   noticed   it. 

259 


260  MAINWARING- 

^'You  see,  the  Duchess  thinks  I  am  the  parlour- 
maid. I  am  glad  of  that.''  That  was  all  she 
said. 

He  had  told  me  the  truth,  then,  in  his  cups 
at  the  party.  This  was  another  hemorrhage, 
and  a  bad  one.  He  had  caught  a  cold,  skating, 
and  neglected  it.  Then  one  night  he  began  to 
cough,  and  the  horrible  thing  occurred  in  the 
Bigsbury  billiard-room.  They  carried  him  up 
and  sent  for  the  doctor.  Afterwards  they  had 
another  doAvn  from  Harley  Street.  He  wasn't 
fit  to  move  for  three  weeks;  high  fever,  and 
bleeding  at  the  lungs  pretty  often. 

Lizzy  kept  me  informed.  *^You  will  find  him 
changed.  He  will  hardly  let  me  out  of  his  sight. 
We  have  a  night-nurse,  and  they  are  all  very 
kind  to  him.  Lady  Mary  has  been  sent  away 
to  her  people.  She  bothered  him,  so  he  asked 
the  doctor  to  get  rid  of  her.  She  was  very  much 
upset.  He  made  me  write  to  Lady  W. — but  she 
won't  come  here.  If  he  is  no  worse  I  shall 
bring  him  home.  He  seems  to  wish  it.  He  has 
had  a  letter  from  Mr.  Hardman." 

In  another  letter  she  prepared  me.  ^^You 
will  be  surprised  when  you  see  him.  He  has 
asked  for  you  several  times.  He  seems  to  cling 
to  me.    It  is  as  if  he  was  trying  to  make  it 


SICK-BED  261 

better  for  me.  He  will  hardly  let  me  leave  him 
for  a  minute.  It  is  painful  to  see  a  man  who 
was  always  so  independent  so  different  now. 
It  is  too  late.  But  I  must  do  what  I  can  for 
him. '  ^ 

That  made  me  rather  unhappy.  I  had  never 
felt  so  before  about  her  relations  with  him. 
There  had  been  no  occasion.  But  if  he  had  a 
sick  man^s  craving,  or  if  he  thought  to  atone 
for  past  neglect  by  extravagant  demonstra- 
tions ;  and  if  I  was  to  be  there,  and  he  as  care- 
less of  presences  or  absences  as  he  generally 
was — why,  I  saw  that  I  was  to  be  passed 
through  the  fire.  However,  what  she  could  do, 
I  could  do,  I  hoped. 

The  talk  in  London  was  that  he  would  be  de- 
clared President  of  the  Board  of  Trade  before 
Parliament  met.  Then  he  must  be  re-elected, 
of  course.  But — it  was  objected — was  he  going 
to  die?  Never  mind  what  he  does,  the  answer 
ran;  old  Hardman  wants  him;  or  at  any  rate 
the  name  of  him.  He  wants  what  Mainwaring 
stands  for.  He  is  getting  nervous  that  the 
Liberals  may  lose  touch  with  the  trade  unions — 
as  they  may — or  that  Bentivoglio  will  get  hold 
of  them — as  he  would  if  he  could.  Besides,  his 
back   is   up.     The   Messenger   did    that.     One 


262  MAINWARING- 

knew  that  the  old  man  had  the  deuce  of  a  temper. 
He  thought  that  there  had  been  a  conspiracy 
against  the  House  of  Commons,  and  that  Main- 
waring  had  exposed  it.  Well,  I  think  he  had. 
That  is  how  things  stood  in  January.  Main- 
waring  was  brought  home  in  February.  The 
Houses  met,  and  the  appointment  was  gazetted. 

Lizzy  wrote  to  me  to  come.  I  had  not  seen 
her  for  four  months.  I  was  very  much  agitated, 
much  more  than  she  was.  But  she  had  a  world 
on  her  young  shoulders.  She  was  twenty-six 
that  year,  and  had  been  married  six  of  them. 
She  looked  very  pale,  of  a  grave,  still,  sad 
beauty.     She  was  in  plain  black. 

I  kissed  her  hand,  and  held  it  for  a  moment. 
She  took  it  away  without  effort  or  apparent 
will.  I  don't  think  she  noticed  that  I  had  had 
it  in  mine.  ^*I  am  glad  you  could  come.  He 
heard  the  bell  and  asked  if  that  was  you.  He 
sent  me  down  on  the  chance.^' 

*^How  is  heT'  I  asked  her. 

She  said  that  he  was  better.  He  had  had  no 
hemorrhage  for  ten  days.  The  doctors  spoke 
of  his  going  abroad  in  another  fortnight. 

*^You  will  go  with  him?"  I  had  to  ask.  She 
showed  me  her  sweet  true  eyes. 


SICK-BED  263 

'^Oli,  yes,  I  should  have  to  go  with  him.  He 
wouldn't  think  of  going  without  me.''  Then 
her  eyes  beckoned  me.  ^'I  think  we  ought  to 
go  up  now.     He  is  very  impatient." 

I  followed  her,  despair  in  my  heart. 

He  looked  like  a  wandering  spirit,  paused  in 
its  drifting,  to  rest  in  that  bed.  A  huge  four- 
poster  with  red  hangings  it  was.  His  hands 
were  like  claws.  You  could  see  his  skull 
through  the  skin.  There  was  something  about 
the  eyes  which  shocked  me.  Not  that  the  fire 
had  gone  out.  It  was  there.  But  it  had  gone 
cold.  There  was  no  arrogance  there  now,  nor 
conscious  power;  no  devilry,  nor  mockery,  nor 
malice.  But  there  was  mischief.  I  could  see 
it — and  he  made  me  feel  it. 

**Well,  you  see  me  lying  where  my  enemies 
would  like  to  see  me !  But  I  shall  be  even  with 
them  yet.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  this  dear  girl 
I  should  have  been  a  dead  man,  I  can  tell  you." 
He  looked  at  her,  and  she  very  unwillingly,  as 
it  seemed  to  me,  met  his  eyes.  ^'Come  to  me, 
my  darling,"  he  said,  and  slowly  she  went  to  the 
bed.  He  took  her  hand.  *  ^  My  true  love  has  my 
heart,  and  I  have  hers."  I  could  hardly  bear 
to  see  him— though  he  meant  it  all  for  me.  His 
great  gaunt  eyes  made  free  of  her.     ^'Kiss  me, 


264  MAINWARINa 

Lizzy,  kiss  me,  my  darling.''  She  stooped  her 
head,  and  his  lips  fastened  upon  hers.  I  turned 
my  back  upon  them,  went  to  the  window  and 
stood  looking  upon  the  square,  starving  and 
sodden  in  the  fog. 

I  don't  know  how  long  it  went  on.  It  seemed 
to  me  ages.  Then  I  heard  her  sob,  and  say, 
*^0h,  don't,  don't.  I  can't.  I  hate  it."  She 
broke  away,  and  came  to  me.  She  spoke  in  a 
remote  way — with  a  dry  rasp  in  her  clear  voice. 
**  Please  sit  by  him  for  a  little.  I  shall  be  back 
soon."  Then  she  went  out  of  the  room,  and  I 
turned  very  reluctantly  to  the  bed. 

**You  see,  my  dear  fellow,  that  I  am  in  clover 
here.  Bless  your  life,  I  knew  what  I  was  about 
when  I  fell  in  love  with  her.  I  haven 't  behaved 
well,  I  know.  I  daresay  you  understand  how  I 
have  been  placed — one  can't  always  help  oneself. 
But  thank  God  for  her,  I  say.  Now  I  am  com- 
ing round  again,  there's  a  new  honeymoon  to 
look  forward  to.     The  sooner  the  better." 

He  didn't  say  all  this  in  a  rush — but  rather 
jerked  it  out  in  spasms,  as  if  he  was  squirting 
poison  at  me.  I  think  he  knew — I  am  sure  he 
did — that  it  was  poison  to  me.  At  the  same 
time — and  that  made  it  worse — I  felt  sure  that 
he  wanted  her  again.    I  could  not  doubt  but  he 


SICK-BED  265 

would  give  her  another  child,  probably  infected 
with  his  disease;  and  now  I  knew  what  this 
would  mean  to  her.  That  knowledge  made  me 
hot ;  then  cold  all  over.  He  saw  me  shiver,  and 
his  eyes  gleamed.  He  felt  able  to  talk  of  some- 
thing else,  so  at  ease  he  was;  he  even  tried  to 
be  amiable,  which  he  had  never  done  in  his  life 
before.  When  Lizzy  came  back,  beyond  holding 
her  hand,  which  he  did  throughout  my  stay,  he 
did  not  attempt  to  make  love  to  her  again. 

He  said  that  he  should  take  her  to  Marseilles, 
**  where  you  and  I  first  blundered  into  each 
other.''  She  should  see  where  he  mewed  his 
youth;  the  pothouses  where  he  ate  his  mess  of 
fish  from  a  basin,  and  drank  black  wine;  the 
garret  where  he  hugged  himself  against  the  cold, 
the  room  where  he  taught.  She  should  know 
what  she  had  saved  him  from — and  then,  he 
said  with  shining  eyes,  she  should  go  to  the 
best  hotel  in  the  town,  and  see  where  they  were 
now.  He  pulled  at  her  hand  and  asked  her  how 
that  would  be.  She  said,  **You  know  I  don't 
care  for  grand  hotels." 

A  maid  came  to  the  door  and  said  that  Lady 
Whitehaven  had  called  to  enquire.  That 
seemed  to  me  almost  incredible — but  not  so  to 
Main  waring.    ^*Gro  down,  my  love,"  he  said. 


266  MAINWARING 

'^You  can  bring  her  up.  She's  an  old  friend.'' 
Lizzy  went  without  a  word.  **An  old  friend," 
he  repeated,  for  his  own  benefit,  not  (I  am 
sure)  to  justify  himself. 

He  awaited  her  with  impatience,  and  when 
she  came  in,  greeted  her  gaily,  even  with  an  air 
of  mockery.  ^'So  you  have  come — you  wish 
to  be  reassured.  It  is  all  right.  They  have  cut 
my  claws."  I  made  way  for  her.  She  looked 
very  fluttered,  but  with  her  usual  gallantry  car- 
ried it  off. 

**We  have  all  been  very  anxious — of  course 
you  know  that.  Now  you  are  better  you  must 
expect  all  Leven  House  about  your  bed.  Eeally, 
I  have  hardly  been  able  to  keep  Molly  in  the 
house." 

He  paid  no  heed  to  what  she  said.  ^^So  they 
have  not  put  out  my  eyes.     They  can  still  call  ? ' ' 

She  nodded.  ^*I  am  sure  they  are  very  cap- 
able. But  where  has  Lizzy  gone?  I  thought 
she  followed  me  in. ' ' 

He  was  looking  at  her,  triumphantly.  When 
she  mentioned  Lizzy  he  became  easy.  **She 
wouldn't  come  here  while  you  were  here." 

Lady  Whitehaven  jumped  up.  '  ^  Oh,  but  that 
won't  do  at  all.  I  shall  leave  you  immediately. 
I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing. ' ' 


SICK-BED  267 

He  said,  *^Sit  down.  Whitworth  shall  fetch 
her.''    She  turned  to  me. 

''Do,  please,  Mr.  Whitworth." 

So  I  went  for  Lizzy,  and  found  her  down- 
stairs, preparing  a  tea-tray.  She  knew  my 
step,  I  think,  waited  for  me,  and  when  I  came 
in,  looked  quickly  and  shyly  at  me,  then  faintly 
smiled.  ''I  am  sent  for  you,''  I  said.  ''Will 
you  come  up?"  "In  a  minute,"  she  said.  "I 
am  going  to  take  her  some  tea. ' ' 

She  added,  seeing  that  I  said  nothing — ^I  could 
not — "I  am  making  some  for  you  too;"  and 
then  I  said,  "No,  no,  I  shan't  go  up  any  more." 
She  busied  herself  with  the  bread-and-butter. 
"It  is  better  for  me  when  some  one  is  there — but 
I  understand,  of  course." 

I  was  very  much  upset,  could  not  speak  to 
her.  She  knew  it  and  was  distressed  by  it,  but 
could  not  bear  to  let  me  go.  It  was  one  of  those 
cases  where  torment,  being  lively,  is  better  than 
despair,  which  means  spiritual  death. 

"How  long  has  he  been  like  this?" 

' '  I  found  him  so  when  I  went  up  there.  It  has 
been  the  same  ever  since." 

"Lizzy,  how  ghastly!" 

She  gave  a  dry  sob.     "Oh,  don't!" 

It  made  no  difference — I  didn't  really  care 


268  MAINWARINa 

one  way  or  the  other ;  but  I  asked,  Had  he  sent 
for  Lady  Whitehaven?  Oh,  no,  I  was  told. 
She  just  came.  She  had  called  every  day,  but 
this  was  the  first  time  she  had  sent  her  name 
up. 

I  said,  *^The  woman  is  a  fool,"  but  poor 
Lizzy  shook  her  head. 

**No,  she's  not  a  fool.  She  can't  help  her- 
self.'^  Then,  having  washed  her  hands  and 
dried  them,  she  said,  **I  must  take  this  up.'' 

**I'll  carry  it  to  the  door  for  you,"  I  told  her. 
Then  I  said,  *'Do  you  want  me  to  come  again?" 
Her  eyes  showed  that  she  did — a  sudden  dila- 
tion, a  gleam.  *^If  you  would — if  you  could — 
It  is  something  for  me. "  She  told  me  then  that 
he  would  be  sure  to  want  me — ^  *  Not  because  he 
likes  you — it  is  horrid — it  is  to  let  you  see." 
She  was  moved  by  the  horror  of  it  all.  She 
touched  me  on  the  arm.  *^ Don't  mind  for  me — 
don't  be  angry — "  **0h,  Lizzy!"  I  would 
have  kissed  her — ^but  she  avoided  me.  I  carried 
up  her  tray,  and  at  the  door  she  said,  without 
looking  at  me,  ^^Then  you  will  come  again?" 

•**Yes,  yes,  and  I'll  work  for  you  next  time." 
She  gave  me  a  grateful  look  and  went  in.  I 
saw  Lady  Whitehaven  move  suddenly  as  the 
door  opened. 


HEAD  DOWN 

MAINWAEING  got  better,  and  as  he  got 
better  so  his  yoke  grew  lighter.  People 
came  to  see  him;  he  used  to  have  a  party  to  tea 
in  his  room  every  afternoon.  The  Duchess,  of 
course.  Lady  Mary  and  others  of  their  set  who 
don't  count.  With  their  advent  Lizzy  declined 
to  the  servant  again.  None  of  them  had  any 
idea  of  what  she  really  was,  though  the  Duchess 
had  remarked  her.  ^^That  really  lovely  gel— 
what's  her  name?  If  I  were  my  sis  I  should 
be  consumed  with  jealousy.''  Her  ''sis,"  as 
she  called  her,  naturally  was  not;  but  Lady 
Mary  used  to  watch  Lizzy  about. 

Lizzy  herself  was  happier,  poor  dear.  *'0h, 
it's  much  better  now  they've  come,"  she  told 
me.  ''He  is  only  troublesome  now  when  you 
are  here.  He  likes  to  make  people  uncomfort- 
able."   There  was  no  difficulty  about  that. 

There  was  talk  of  his  going  to  Algiers;  the 
Zenobia  was  mentioned,  and  Lady  Whitehaven,, 
much  lighter  of  heart  since  Gerald  Gorges  had 

269 


270  MAINWARING 

gone  back  to  his  embassy,  thought  that  she 
might  go  too,  and  take  Mary.  Would  I  go  ?  she 
asked  me,  supposing  it  could  all  be  arranged. 
I  refused.  Then  she  became  sublime  in  her  un- 
conscious insolence.  ^^  Lizzy  is  the  difficulty,  of 
course.  One  really  doesn't  quite  know  what  to 
do  about  her.  She  has  been  devoted — but  you 
know  how  obstinate  she  can  be. ' '  I  don 't  think 
it  occurred  to  her  for  a  moment  that  the  plain 
way  out  of  the  impdsse  would  have  been  to  let 
the  unfortunate  couple  go  alone. 

I  said,  **  Lizzy  will  go  if  he  wants  her.  She 
has  her  ideas  of  duty.  You  can't  expect  her  to 
like  it.  The  question  she  will  ask  will  be,  what 
does  he  like!" 

^^  There  would  be  my  maid,  of  course — "  she 
said  musingly.  ' '  It  might  do. "  I  had  to  leave 
it  there.  It  is  no  use  being  rude  to  people  who 
simply  don't  understand  why  you  should  be 
rude. 

Then  the  thing  was  settled,  from  elsewhere. 
The  lady  began  to  be  doubtful,  to  see  difficulties, 
to  make  them.  I  heard  some  of  her  talks,  and 
his  glum  replies.  He  was  suspicious  from  the 
first.  Then  she  said  that  it  was  impossible  for 
her  to  go,  but  that  the  yacht  was  at  his  disposal 


HEAD  DOWN  271 

for  as  long  as  he  chose.  He  waved  the  yacht 
away  as  out  of  the  question  altogether.  Either 
he  had  lost  virtue  in  his  late  tussle  with  death, 
or  he  foresaw  some  metal  more  attractive — he 
seemed  to  lose  interest  in  her.  She  noticed  it, 
and  being  all  nerves  and  feelers  made  efforts 
to  re-establish  herself.  Finally,  he  made  her  see 
that  he  didn't  want  her  there  any  more,  and 
she  ceased  to  come. 

She  had  had  her  directions  from  Madrid,  that 
was  clear.  Gorges  had  put  his  foot  down.  *^If 
you  would  have  me — choose."  Here  was  a 
situation  for  a  woman  who  had  had  the  best 
of  two  worlds  all  her  life. 

She  ceased  to  come  to  Montagu  Square,  but 
sent  for  me,  and  soothed  herself  that  way.  She 
talked  round  and  round  the  matter,  evidently 
sore  with  Main  waring  that  he  didn't  feel  it 
more,  equally  hurt  with  Gorges  that  he  felt  it 
so  much.  Not  at  all  in  love  with  Mainwaring, 
but  unwilling  to  lose  him;  very  much  in  love 
with  Gorges  but  unable  to  move  him.  To  me 
very  tiresome.  However,  I  am  sorry  for  her  as 
things  turned  out.  She  was  at  the  end  of  her 
tether  now. 

The  first  thing  that  broke  her  up  was  her 


272  MAINWARING 

daughter's  judgment,  clear,  just  and  pitiless. 
Lizzy  told  me  what  had  happened.  Mary  Point- 
sett  had  gone  there  and  almost  forced  her  way 
tip.  She  had  come  in  suddenly  and  stretched 
out  her  hands  to  him.  '' Mother  tried  to  keep 
me  away,  but  I  couldn't— I  couldn't.''  Main- 
waring  was  on  the  sofa,  in  his  dressing-gown. 
He  looked  at  her,  Lizzy  said,  with  glittering 
eyes.  He  showed  his  teeth.  He  had  jerked  his 
head  sideways  towards  Lizzy,  who  was  stand- 
ing by  the  table.  *'I  don't  think  you  know  my 
wife.  Lizzy,  my  darling,  this  is  Lady  Mary 
Pointsett." 

She  said  the  girl  went  all  white.  Then  she 
shivered  and  got  up.  ''She  shook  hands  with 
me  like  a  sleepwalker,  and  turned  and  went  out 
of  the  room.  I  went  after  her.  She  had  hold 
of  the  banister  and  was  standing  there,  just 
swaying  a  little.  I  said,  'Lady  Mary,  it's  not 
my  fault,'  and  she  turned.  'You  look  kind,' 
she  said;  'don't  be  angry  with  me.'  I  said, 
*My  dear,  how  could  I  be?'  We  came  together 
somehow  and  cried.  I  took  her  downstairs  and 
gave  her  something  to  drink.  She  was  shaking. 
Then  I  called  a  cab  for  her  and  she  went  home." 

I  don't  know— I  never  knew— what  happened 
between  her  mother  and  her.    I  understood  that 


HEAD  DOWN  273 

she  went  into  the  country.  She  married  a  year 
or  two  afterwards,  and  has  a  family  of  chil- 
dren now.  A  man  many  years  older  than  her- 
self. 

As  the  time  approached  when  he  was  to  take 
her  away  Lizzy  became  very  depressed.  She 
told  me  that  she  didn't  know  what  had  happened 
to  him.  '  *  He  seems  to  care  for  nothing  now  ex- 
cept getting  away.  He  doesn't  talk,  doesn't 
care  for  me  to  read  to  him.  Lies  there  looking 
up  and  smiling  to  himself.  Sometimes  I  think 
his  mind  iS'  going.  I  am  afraid  of  him.  You 
see,  I  know  him  very  well.  I  'm  sure  he  is  going 
to  do  something.  I  can  see  it  in  his  mind,  but 
not  what  it  is. ' ' 

I  offered  to  go  with  him,  but  she  wouldn't 
hear  to  that.  *^No,  no,  I  must  be  the  one.  If 
he  were  ill  again  and  anything  happened  to 
him  I  should  never  forgive  myself." 

I  said,  *^Let  me  ask  him,  anyhow.  Let  me 
see  what  he  says.  My  darling  girl!  Let  me 
do  something  for  you.    It  is  all  I  live  for. ' ' 

She  put  her  hand  on  my  arm.  *^You  do 
everything  for  me.  Everything  that  can  be 
done.  You  '11  come  to  me  if  I  wire,  won 't  you  1 ' ' 
I  thought  she  said  that  out  of  kindness,  to  com- 
fort me. 


274  MAINWAEINa 

**I'll  come  to  you  across  the  world,  Lizzy. 
You  know  that.'' 

''Yes,''  she  said.  **I  know  that.''  Then  I 
saw  that  she  had  asked  me  in  order  to  comfort 
herself. 

I  asked  her  if  he  was  going  to  Marseilles. 
She  supposed  so,  understood  so.  **He  doesn't 
care  to  talk  about  what  we  are  going  to  do. 
He  has  taken  tickets  to  Paris.  That's  all  I 
know. ' ' 

I  tried  to  cheer  her  up.  '^You'll  like  Paris — 
and  you'll  love  Marseilles.  I  think  the  harbour 
at  Marseilles  one  of  the  most  exciting  places  in 
the  world.  How  I  should  love  to  show  you  all 
that." 

She  took  a  deep  breath.  **Ah,  that  would 
be  different!  I  wonder  why  some  people  find 
happiness  and  others — !  I  used  to  be  happy 
when  I  was  a  girl." 

**A  girl,  my  dear  one!  "What  do  you  call 
yourself  now?" 

She  shook  her  head.  *' That's  all  done  with. 
That  goes  when  you  have  a  baby.  But  my  baby 
was  born  dead.  So  I  have  had  no  chance." 
She  hadn't.    It  was  true. 

I  suggested  to  Mainwaring  that  I  might  be 
useful  to  him  abroad.     ''Lizzy's  very  tired,  you 


HEAD  DOWN  275 

know.  You  and  I  have  been  at  Marseilles  be- 
fore. ^' 

** Lizzy's  tired,''  he  said,  agreeing  with  me. 
**It  will  do  her  good.  No,  no.  We'll  see  it  out 
together.  We've  been  through  some  things.  It 
has  been  a  good  game.  It  is  understood,  my 
dear  man,  that  you'll  come  out  if  anything  un- 
foreseen should  happen." 

**Yes,"  I  said;  *^that  is  quite  understood." 

'*I  might  overdo  it,  you  know.  It  is  a  way 
I  have."  He  seemed  to  be  talking  to  himself. 
**Yes,  I  overdo  it.  But  I've  always  done  what 
I  wanted,  since  I  got  my  lift  into  the  air.  I 
felt  my  wings — ^I  have  made  a  flight  or  two. 
And  God  knows  where  I  should  have  stopped  if 
it  had  not  been  for — ' '  He  had  a  spasm  of  pain, 
which  ran  across  his  face  and  down  the  muscles 
of  his  neck.  **Whitworth,"  he  said,  looking 
deeply  at  me,  *4n  ten  years  I  might  have  been 
Prime  Minister  of  this  place." 

**In  ten  years  you  may  be." 

His  eyes  grew  sombre.  **Not  now.  I  take 
another  line.  I'm  done  with  politics.  They 
will  bring  me  in  again  for  Culgaith.  No  oppo- 
sition there  now.  I  shall  be  a  Privy  Counsellor 
— a  Eight  Honourable — and  there  I  stop  be- 
cause  a   pretty  woman   chooses   it    so."    He 


276  MAINWAEINa 

laughed — a  hollow,  cheerless  sound.  I  thought 
of  hyenas  in  the  night.  ^^But  I  call  the  halt," 
he  added.     He  would  say  no  more. 

I  saw  Lizzy  the  night  before  they  left — a 
wild  March  night,  blowing  a  gale  of  wind  from 
the  south-west.  *  ^You'll  be  dreadfully  sick,  my 
love, '  ^  I  said  to  her.  She  was  much  too  uneasy 
to  mind  that.  She  clung  to  me.  *'You'll  come 
— ^you'll  come — ^I  know  you  will." 

*'0h,  my  love — "  She  withdrew  from  me  a 
little  way.  Something  moved  me  to  say  that 
we  should  not  be  long  separated.  I  seemed  to 
see  doom  on  the  face  of  the  man  in  the  next 
room.  But  I  didn't  say  it.  She  looked  at  me, 
earnestly.  ^'I  ought  not — ^I  know — but  you  are 
all  I  have." 

**I  am  yours  for  ever,  Lizzy.  That's  an  old 
taie."  Then  she  left  me,  and  I  went  into 
Main  waring 's  library.  He  showed  me  a  letter 
from  old  Hardman.  Polite,  formal,  old-fash- 
ioned. **I  have  Her  Majesty's  commands  to 
offer  you  the  Presidency  of  the  Board  of  Trade, 
with  a  seat  in  the  Cabinet  ...  the  interests  of 
the  working-classes  which  I  know  you  have  at 
heart  .  .  .  important  modifications  of  the  con- 
ditions under  which  .  .  .  housing  .  .  .  hours  of 
labour  ..."  etc.    He  looked  it  all  over  as  if  it 


HEAD  DOWN  277 

was  a  relic  of  the  remote  past,  which  to  him  in- 
deed it  was.  *^IVe  been  civil  to  him,"  he  said. 
*  *  That 's  done  with. ' '  Then  he  said,  *  ^  I  Ve  made 
a  will.    I  put  yon  in  as  executor.    You'll  act?'' 

'^Certainly,"  I  said.  '^I'll  act  when  the 
time  comes." 

**I  know  that  Lizzy  will  be  safe  in  your 
charge.  Lizzy  is  a '  girl  of  gold.  You  know 
that.  When  I  first  saw  her,  scrubbing  her 
mother's  doorstep,  I  give  you  my  word,  my 
heart  stood  still.  A  goddess  in  a  print  gown, 
with  an  apron  of  sack-cloth.  Her  beauty  swept 
me  off  my  feet — but  she's  more  than  a  beauty. 
She's  a  good  woman.  And  that's  why  I  put 
upon  her  more  than  beauty  can  bear.  She  can 
bear  it." 

I  said,  **You  tempt  me  to  tell  you  what  I 
think  of  you. ' ' 

He  said,  ''I  know  it.  If  you  dared  you  would 
have  taken  her  away  long  ago.  But  you  dared 
not,  because  she's  good.  For  that  matter,  my 
dear  fellow,  so  are  you. ' ' 

*^And  what  of  you,  Mainwaring?  Good 
heavens,  what  are  you?" 

He  said,  *  *  I  'm  a  very  proud  man.  I  cannot  be 
denied."    It  was  impossible  to  argue  with  him. 

I  saw  them  off  from  Victoria  next  morning. 


XXIII 

THE   SPEING 

IHEAED  from  Lizzy,  from  Paris.  Her 
letters  were  always  inexpressive — on  that 
account,  to  a  lover,  much  more  expressive  than 
the  most  profuse  could  have  been! — She  had 
been  grievously  sick,  crossing,  but  was  quite  re- 
covered. They  were  staying  only  one  more 
night.  He  had  taken  her  to  a  theatre.  *'I 
can't  say  I  liked  it.  I  didn't  know  what  they 
said.  It  was  more  than  enough  for  me  what 
they  did.  He  met  some  people  he  knew  at  the 
hotel,  and  I  had  to  dine  with  them.  One  was  a 
member  of  Parliament,  and  one  was  French. 
They  all  talked  a  great  deal.  People  looked  at 
us.  I  think  the  Frenchman  is  going  to  travel 
with  us,  but  am  not  sure.  Eichard  asked  him. 
I  don't  like  him  at  all.  It  takes  all  sorts  to 
make  a  world,  but  I  have  always  lived  in  a 
ismall  one.  I  suppose  I  am  too  old  to  change. 
Of  course  it's  all  my  fault.  I'll  write  again  on 
the  journey  if  I  can — but  don't  expect  it.  I 
have  a  great  deal  to  do.    L." 

278 


THE  SPEING  279 

I  could  see  that  she  was  miserable,  uncomfort- 
able, *  ^  out  of  it. ' '  The  Frenchman  would  prob- 
ably think  her  fair  game,  and  Mainwaring  would 
not  care.     Jolly  for  me,  all  this. 

Nothing  more  for  three  days,  and  then  I  had 
a  postcard  which  surprised  me  very  much. 
*^ Madrid^'  it  was  headed,  and  ^^ Hotel  de  la 
Paz.^'  She  told  me  that  they  had  only  just 
arrived.  *^You  see  where  we  are.  I  couldn't 
write  before.  Monsieur  Lob  joy  came  with  us, 
but  is  not  staying  here.  I  will  write  as  soon 
as  I  can.  This  is  the  coldest  place  I  have  ever 
been  in,  after  sunset.  I  hope  we  shan't  be  here 
long.     It  is  very  bad  for  him.'' 

I  don't  think  I  had  a  moment's  suspicion  of 
what  was  going  on,  or  I  should,  I  am  sure,  have 
gone  out  at  once.  I  thought  he  had  had  a  sud- 
den impulse,  and  was  making  for  Malaga  or 
Cadiz.  I  thought  Cadiz,  as  I  knew  what  a  good 
climate  that  was.  Engrossed  with  my  own  af- 
fairs, I  got  what  comfort  I  could  from  the  ab- 
sence of  the  Frenchman  from  the  hotel.  For 
if  that  Frenchman  was  struck  by  Lizzy's  good 
looks  he  would  think  her  fair  quarry.  He  would 
see  in  two  minutes  that  Mainwaring  only  found 
her  a  convenience. 

Two  days  after  that  I  had  a  telegram  saying. 


280  MAINWAEING 

'Please  come  at  once.  No  signature.  Then  I 
began  to  put  two  and  two  together,  and  added  to 
them  all  the  chips  and  straws  of  suspicion  and 
foreboding  I  had  gathered  in  a  week  or  more. 
I  guessed  that  something  horrible  had  happened, 
and  that  Lizzy  was  entangled  in  it.  I  thought 
of  the  Frenchman  and  had  a  cold  sweat. 

I  stuffed  a  bag,  got  some  money,  bought  a 
ticket  and  left  London  that  night.  I  had  no 
time  to  see  Lady  Whitehaven — besides,  she 
sickened  me.  I  vowed  as  I  rattled  towards 
Southampton — that  was  the  only  way  open  to 
me — that  I  had  done  with  such  people  for  good. 
There  is  a  kind  of  frivolity  that  is  worse  than 
mischievous — that  is  poisonous.  There  is  a 
kind  of  insolence  which  may  consist  with  easy 
manners  and  be  the  more  cruel  the  more  glitter- 
ing it  is.  The  woman  was  probably  now  at  the 
feet  of  her  daughter.  Let  her  get  up  a  better 
one.  And  then  I  turned  to  wonder  what  had 
happened  in  Madrid.  A  hemorrhage — 1  A 
fracas  with  Gerald  Gorges!  Probably  both. 
If  he  took  a  Frenchman  with  him  to  Madrid,  he 
had  a  reason.  What  was  that!  I  thought  it 
probable  that  Mainwaring  had  some  preposter- 
ous notion  of  calling  Gorges  out.  He  would 
insult    him — Gorges    would    meet    him.     The 


THE  SPRING  281 

Frenclimaii  was  the  second.  That  was  it. 
Well,  and  then?  Would  Gorges  fight  him?  I 
thought  he  might  have  to.  Would  Gorges  hit 
him?  I  could  not  believe  it.  Would  Mainwar- 
ing  fire  at  him?  Mainwaring  might  do  any- 
thing. And  Lizzy,  my  bewildered  goddess? 
Alone  in  Madrid,  with  a  dead  husband  to  bury — 
or  a  maniacal  husband  to  endure.  My  heart 
bled  for  her.     Southampton. 

It  was  a  wild  night,  with  a  wet,  soft  south 
wind.  No  rain.  I  went  downstairs,  looked  at 
my  berth,  and  said  No,  to  it.  I  walked  the 
deck  up  and  down,  I  sat  betweenwhiles,  smoked, 
walked  again.  I  watched  the  dark,  swift 
waters,  the  churned  wake  shining  in  the  beam 
thrown  on  it  by  our  stern  light.  I  felt  the 
soft  wind  to  be  full  of  whispers  from  Lizzy.  It 
came  upon  me  as  mild  as  asking  looks  from  her 
eyes.  She  used  to  look  at  me  in  a  shy,  grave 
way  sometimes,  asking  if  she  had  said  some- 
thing foolish.  She  never  did — but  she  was 
afraid  I  should  judge  her.  Well,  the  world 
could  still  be  endured  while  there  were  good 
women  in  it,  because  it  was  still  possible  that 
there  might  yet  be  some  good  men.  Not  Main- 
warings.  God,  what  a  man!  Mad?  No,  I 
don't  think — I  have  never  thought  Mainwaring 


282  MAINWARING 

was  mad.  He  had  genius,  he  was  hag-ridden 
by  it.  It  drove  him  to  the  accomplishment  of 
his  intent,  whatever  it  was — Prime  Minister  of 
England,  saviour  of  working-people,  ruin  of 
^Copestake,  husband  of  Lizzy  Mathews,  master 
of  Kose  Whitehaven,  death  of  her  lover — what- 
ever it  was,  he  must  do  it.  The  devil  take  him. 
Well,  I  was  prepared  to  find  that  the  devil  had. 
What  else  could  my  poor  girl  mean? 

A  faint  lifting  of  the  dark,  a  thrill,  a  paling 
of  the  stars,  we  had  turned  the  clock.  A  world 
too  much  cursed  with  men  was  turning  in  her 
sleep.  It  grew  colder;  a  little  wind  ruffled  the 
sea,  and  the  ship  rose  and  dipped  to  meet  the 
driven  waves.  I  went  downstairs  and  lay  on 
my  bed.  Being  tired,  I  slept  heavily  and  woke 
at  the  shore  noises.    Le  Havre. 

In  Paris,  as  I  had  hoped,  I  just  caught  the 
Sud-Express,  and  was  in  Madrid  next  day. 
The  intolerable  journey!  I  drove  to  the  hotel 
which  is  in  that  huge  square,  where  the  people 
move  about  like  flies  on  a  table.  My  knees 
shook  and  seemed  to  give  under  me.  I  asked 
the  porter  in  the  hall  for  Madame  Mainwaring. 
The  man's  face  instantly  changed.  *^Come 
with  me,  sir.''    I  followed  him  upstairs. 

Lizzy  stood  in  the  doorway  like  a  ghost.    She 


THE  SPRING  283 

faltered,  ran  forward,  and  clung  to  me.  The 
floodgates  were  loosed,  she  abandoned  herself, 
was  carried  away.  I  let  her  cry  herself  to 
quietness.  She  told  me  that  he  could  not  last 
long.  The  doctor  was  with  him,  had  hardly 
left  him.  Hemorrhage,  of  course.  ' '  The  morn- 
ing after  we  came  he  went  out  with  M.  Lob  joy. 
He  was  out  a  long  time.  But  he  came  back  to 
lunch  alone,  and  stayed  with  me  till  about  four 
o^clock.  We  had  some  chocolate  and  he  went 
out  again,  saying  he  might  be  late.  M.  Lob  joy 
came  into  my  room  and  said  there  had  been  an 
accident.  He  had  lost  a  great  deal  of  blood. 
He  was  being  brought  back.  .  .  .  They  brought 
him  back  in  a  litter.  An  Englishman  whom  I 
didn't  know  came  with  him.  He  was  very  po- 
lite, and  began  by  giving  me  his  card.  ^Lord 
Gerald  Gorges. '  He  said  that  he  knew  Richard. 
They  took  him  up  to  bed.  The  doctor  said  from 
the  first  that  it  was  hopeless.  He  is  not  bleed- 
ing now,  but  he  can't  speak.  One  lung  is  quite 
gone,  they  say.  Oh,  my  friend,  my  friend,  I 
am  so  thankful  you  have  come. 

**Lord  Gerald  has  been  very  kind.  He  told 
Lob  joy  to  go  away.  I  think  he  has  gone  back 
to  France.    I  hope  so. 

**It  was  through  Lord  Gerald  that  the  people 


284:  MAINWAEING 

here  are  civil.  They  wanted  me  to  take  him 
away  at  onoe.  They  tried  to  prevent  them 
bringing  him  in.  The  proprietor  has  been  here 
— he  was  very  angry.  Lord  Gerald  saw  him. 
It  is  all  right  now. 

**I  have  no  money.  I  don't  know  that  Eich- 
ard  has  much.  Lord  Gerald  said  that  he  met 
him  that  afternoon  on  some  business,  and  that 
while  they  were  engaged  Eichard  suddenly 
choked,  and  then  would  have  fallen  if  they 
hadn't  caught  him.  They  couldn't  stop  the 
bleeding  all  night.     Oh,  what  shall  I  do?" 

I  comforted  her.  I  told  her  that  her  troubles 
were  nearly  at  an  end.  Now  that  I  knew  the 
worst  of  it,  and  could  see  that  it  was  true,  I 
felt  happier  than  ever  in  my  life  before. 

She  took  me  in  to  see  him.  He  lay  like  a  dead 
man,  staring  black-and-white.  I  thought  he 
was  dead — but  the  doctor,  an  English  doctor, 
said  that  he  was  still  alive.  Looking  atten- 
tively, I  could  see  that  he  did  breathe — but  so 
short,  so  quick,  so  incredibly  light  a  breath; 
you  would  have  said  it  could  not  maintain  a 
gnat  in  life.  He  was  dreadfully  thin,  and 
looked  as  if  his  soul  was  in  pain.  There  was  a 
stretched,  famished  grin  upon  him.  His  chin 
was  thrust  up — and  his  black  beard  stood  out 


THE  SPEINQ  285 

like  a  bush.  I  thought  that  inside  that  wrecked, 
empty  tenement  of  his  his  dark  mind  was  fight- 
ing busily,  breathlessly  for  a  way  out — a  shift 
which  even  at  this  last  hour  might  save  him  for 
his  whim's  sake.  I  wished  at  that  moment  for 
nothing  so  much  as  that  he  might  find  peace 
before  he  died. 

Where  my  girl  stood,  beautiful  in  her  pity 
and  grief,  a  man  came  tiptoe,  and  whispered  to 
her.  I  hadn't  heard  him  come  in.  She  came 
over  to  me  and  told  me  that  Gerald  Gorges  was 
below.  Would  I  go  and  see  him  I  So  I  left 
her  and  went  downstairs. 

There  was  Antinous,  as  we  used  to  call  him — 
but  a  changed  young  man.  In  fact,  he  was  now 
a  man. 

He  came  to  me  with  his  hand  out.  *'Mr. 
Whitworth!  We  have  met,  I  think,  in  happier 
circumstances.  I  am  thankful  that  you  are 
here,  for  that  poor  lady's  sake.  This  has  been 
a  dreadful  shock — but  I  must  not  keep  you.  I 
came  to  enquire." 

I  told  him,  ** There's  no  hope.  He  may  go 
at  any  minute."  Lord  Gerald  had  no  demean- 
our left.    I  saw  that  his  eyes  were  full. 

'*Do  you  think  I  could  see  him!  I  must  ex- 
plain the  whole  thing.    Nothing  so  dreadful  has 


286  MAINWAEINa 

ever  happened  to  me  before.  But  I  mustn't 
keep  you.  Only,  if  I  might  see  him — on  the 
chance  of  his  recovering  consciousness — it 
would  mean  very  much  to  me.'' 

I  said,  ^'I  don't  think  it  could  possibly  hurt. 
I  don't  think  anybody  could  make  a  differ- 
ence—  " 

He  looked  alarmed.     **To  her,  you  know?" 

I  said,  ^^ Let's  go  up.  I'U  ask  her.  I'll  tell 
her  what  you  say."    We  went  up  together. 

There  were  the  doctor,  a  woman — nun,  I 
think — and  Lizzy.  Lizzy  had  her  hands  clasped 
round  a  pillar  of  the  bed.  I  told  her  that 
Gorges  was  in  the  passage.  ^^He  hopes  to  be 
recognized.  He  is  unhappy.  I  think  they 
would  both  be  happier  if  it  could  be  so.  There 
is  always  a  chance  at  the  last. ' ' 

She  nodded.  *^Yes,  oh,  yes.  Anything  to 
make  him  quiet  at  the  last." 

I  beckoned  him  in.  He  came  on  the  tips  of  his 
toes  and  stood  by  the  bed.  He  was  shocked  by 
Mainwaring's  horrible,  noiseless  struggle.  His 
lips  moved.  I  thought  the  young  man  was 
praying.  I  was.  I  am  sure  Lizzy  was.  The 
nun  was,  on  her  knees.  The  doctor  whispered 
to  me — ^'I  should  get  a  priest,  if  I  were  you." 

^^He's  a  protestant." 


THE  SPRING  287 

''What  does  that  matter?  Even  protestants 
want  to  die  easy."  I  sent  the  porter  out  in  a 
cab  to  get  the  English  chaplain. 

He  came  in  about  twenty  minutes,  fixed  up 
his  altar,  lit  his  candles  and  consecrated  his 
wafer.  He  dipped  it  in  the  wine  and  put  it  be- 
tween Mainwaring's  writhen  lips.  Wine  or 
sacrament,  it  moved  him.  He  gave  a  long,  shud- 
dering moan,  and  opened  his  eyes.  He  saw 
Lizzy,  he  saw  me ;  he  looked  up  and  saw  Gorges. 
The  young  man  sobbed,  and  touched  Mainwaring 
with  his  hand.  A  flicker  of  a  smile  passed  over 
him — it  was  like  a  child  sighing,  so  light  it  was. 
Then  his  head  moved.  He  turned  his  cheek  to 
the  pillow ;  his  mouth  opened  a  little.  He  sighed 
once.  That  was  the  end  of  him.  Gerald 
Gorges  was  on  his  knees  by  the  bed;  the  priest 
prayed  on,  commended  his  soul;  Lizzy  and  I 
knelt  side  by  side. 

I  left  Lizzy  and  the  nun  to  their  ministrations, 
and  went  downstairs  with  Gerald  Gorges.  He 
told  me  all  about  it.  A  horrible  story  it  was, 
too. 

Mainwaring  called  to  see  him  at  the  Embassy, 
and  insulted  him  grossly  before  one  of  his  sec- 
retaries. He  insisted  on  a  meeting  that  after- 
noon, and  in  such  a  way  that  Gorges  felt  he 


288  MAINWARINa 

could  not  refuse.  * '  I  named  a  friend  of  mine ; 
the  poor  chap  mentioned  Lob  joy — a  French- 
man whom  he  had  brought  with  him  for  the 
purpose.  A  man  of  bad  reputation.  I  knew  all 
about  him.  I  could  not  well  refuse — in  fact,  it 
was  impossible.  And  I  own  to  you — you  are 
entitled  to  know  all — that  I  had  brought  it  on 
myself,  and  on  him — he  being  what  he  was.  I 
had  told  Lady  Whitehaven — I  had  begged  her 
as  a  favour  to  me  not  to  take  him  on  a  yacht- 
ing cruise.  I  wrote  strongly — I  believed  that 
she  had  given  me  the  right.  Well,  well — ^I  am 
punished — there  ^s  an  end  of  what  ought  never 
to  have  begun.  But  all  that  being  so,  I  felt 
that  Main  waring  was  entitled  to  have  a  shot  at 
me.  I  need  not  tell  you,  I  hope,  that  nothing 
would  have  induced  me  to  take  an  aim.  But 
if  he  felt  that  he  must  shoot  me— I  don't  think 
I  could  have  refused  him. 

**Well,  we  met  in  the  park  here,  and  stood 
up.  He  had  brought  the  pistols.  I  had  none 
of  my  o^^m.  We  stood  up,  and  the  signal  was 
given.  I  fired  into  the  ground.  I  saw  Main- 
waring  lift  his  arm.  His  elbow  was  bent.  He 
aimed,  not  at  me.  He  aimed  at  himself.  At 
that  moment  he  had  a  sort  of  shudder.     The 


THE  SPEING  289 

thing  went  off  over  his  head.  He  stood  strang- 
ling ;  he  grew  livid.  Then  he  dropped  his  pistol 
and  clapped  both  his  hands  to  his  mouth.  I 
saw  the  blood  cover  them.  We  had  a  doctor 
with  us — we  caught  him.  But  he  never  ral- 
lied.'' He  stopped  there — ^but  began  again 
when  he  had  conquered  himself. 

**That  unhappy,  gentle  lady!  I  had  to  think 
of  her.  I  had  not  had  the  slightest  notion  that 
he  was  a  married  man.  If  I  had  known  that  I 
don't  know  that  anything  of  this  need  have 
happened.    Lady  Whitehaven,  too — " 

**She  knew  it,"  I  said,  thinking  he  had  better 
have  everything  before  him. 

**You  blame  me,  I  have  no  doubt;  and  I  am 
very  much  to  blame.  I  don't  defend  myself — 
nor  accuse  the  dead.  I  can  only  thank  God 
that  by  some  miracle  of  mercy  he  knew  me, 
and  understood.  If  it  is  any  consolation  to 
you — as  I  think  it  was  to  him  to  be  able  to  dis- 
cern it  in  my  heart — I  shall  never  see  Lady 
Whitehaven  again." 

I  said,  **Lord  Gerald,  don't  say  that.  She 
has  had  more  to  bear  than  perhaps  you  know." 

He  said,  *'We  must  all  bear  what  we  have 
earned.    But  she  and  I  had  better  bear  our 


290  MAINWARING 

burdens  alone.  We  may  meet  again  some  day 
— but  not  while  I  remember  Mainwaring. '  ^ 
Then  he  broke  out — '^What  a  man!  God  for- 
give me  for  saying  so —  Not  a  man,  but  a 
devil.'' 
'^No/'  I  said.    '*Not  a  devil,  but  a  child.'' 


XXIV, 

BIAVEN" 

THE  formalities  were  put  through  by 
Oorges'  influence.  Mainwaring  lies  bur- 
ied in  protestant  ground  in  the  cemetery 
called  Ingles.  We  put  upon  the  headstone  his 
name  and,  ultimately,  when  we  knew  it,  his  age. 
He  was  forty-seven.  At  Culgaith,  in  that  drab 
town  littered  on  two  hillsides,  they  gave  him  a 
monument,  which  told  lies.  It  called  him  Presi- 
dent of  the  Board  of  Trade,  and  *' Friend  of  the 
Poor'' — neither  of  which  offices  did  he  ever 
serve.  But  they  didn't  know  that.  In  Madrid 
he  is  recorded  as  his  parents  named  him.  All 
that  done,  I  took  Lizzy  home  to  London,  and 
as  soon  as  might  be  saw  her  into  the  train  for 
her  native  place.  We  were  very  quiet  in  each 
other's  company  in  those  early  days,  but  very 
peaceful,  seeing  clear  sky  and  happiness  ahead 
of  us.  I  set  to  work  to  unravel  and  wind  up 
Mainwaring 's  affairs. 

He  had  made  me  sole  executor  and  Lizzy  sole 
beneficiary,  and  left  some  £3,000,  the  remains  of 

291 


292  MAINWAEINa 

the  damages  he  had  had  from  Copestake. 
When  I  came  to  deal  with  his  debts  I  soon  saw 
that  there  would  be  much  less  than  nothing  for 
her.  He  seems  to  have  owed  money  for  every- 
thing he  had  had,  and  ever  since  he  had  begun 
to  have  anything.  There  was  nothing,  however, 
due  for  the  household.  Lizzy  had  seen  to  that. 
His  principal  creditor  was  the  Duchess  of 
Leven,  whom  it  was  my  duty  to  see. 

This  lady  began  by  saying  that  she  had  no 
notion  what  she  had  lent  him.  '^He  used  to 
come  to  me  like  a  bear  with  a  sore  head,  and  I 
knew  what  that  meant.  I  had  no  use  for  him 
at  all  in  such  a  state — so  I  used  to  ask  him 
what  it  meant  this  time.  I  have  his  I.O.TJ's 
somewhere.  If  you  insist  upon  it,  I'll  have 
them  looked  up.  I  suppose  they  come  to  a  good 
deal.  He  had  less  idea  of  money  than  I  have — 
other  people 's  money,  I  mean.  He  had  none  of 
his  own.'' 

I  told  her  that  I  thought  I  must  insist  upon 
it.  '* There's  the  will  to  carry  out.  And  you 
know  that  he  has  left  a  widow." 

*'I  know,  I  know,"  she  said.  ''Beautiful 
gel.  She  was  a  housemaid,  wasn't  she?  That 
was  why  he  kept  quiet  about  it,  I  suppose — 
though  Heaven  knows  what  difference  it  would 


HAVEN  293 

have  made  if  she  had  carried  ii  about  on  sand- 
wich-boards. I  should  have  gone  to  see  her  if 
I  had  known — and  asked  her  here.  I  daresay; 
she  wouldn't  have  come — if  she  was  wise.'' 

**She  is  wise,  Duchess.'' 

**Ah.  I  fancy  they  are,  you  know.  And 
have  their  pride.  She  was  maid  in  his  house, 
wasn't  she?  Do  you  know?  I  admire  her  for 
that." 

**SodoI,"Isaid. 

She  gave  me  a  quick  glance— just  there  and 
back.    **My  sis  knew  it  all." 

**Yes,  indeed,"  I  said.  The  Duchess  threw 
her  hands  out. 

^'Why  on  earth — !  Molly,  you  know,  my 
niece,  knew  nothing  about  it.  A  sad  business. 
She  took  it  badly.  They  don't  speak  about  it 
now — but  poor  dear  Eose  had  to  grovel.  And 
now  there's  Gerald  Gorges!"  She  shook  her 
head.  **Eose's  mistake  was  to  put  too  much 
heart  into  those  things.  She  is  cut  to  pieces. 
You  ought  to  go  and  see  her." 

**Ah,"  I  said,  '^I  won't  do  that.  I  have 
nothing  to  tell  her." 

**No,  what  can  one  say?  She  put  too  much 
heart  into  it — lent  herself  to  assumptions — The 
Fenian  assumed  everything — so  he  had  what 


294  MAINWAKING 

there  was!  Then  she  fell  in  with  Gerald 
Gorges.  I  always  hated  that  young  man. 
Bless  you,  she  had  enough  heart  for  a  dozen  of 
them — always  had.  But  with  them  it  was  sole 
ownership.  My  poor  Eose !  Oh,  well,  don't  let 
us  talk  about  it.  Thank  heaven,  nobody  has 
ever  assumed  me/' 

Then  I  begged  once  more  for  the  documents, 
and  was  promised  them.  She  summed  up 
Mainwaring  neatly,  I  thought. 

**He  was  the  best  of  company  when  he  chose. 
But  the  whole  thing  was  blague  from  beginning 
to  end.  He  bluffed  the  poor,  he  bluffed  the 
Government ;  he  bluffed  my  poor  sister ;  and  he 
bluffed  God.  Until  he  got  tiresome.  Then  the 
Authorities  just  blew  him  away.  You  can't 
bluff  lung-disease." 

I  said,  ^^Very  true.  He  over-reached  him- 
self there.  But  he  had  audacity  enough  to 
carry  him  through  this  world.  He  told  me  when 
he  was  on  his  sick-bed  here  that  if  he  had  had 
ten  years  more  he  would  have  been  Prime  Minis- 
ter." 

The  Duchess  opened  her  eyes.  **Why  not? 
Bentivoglio  has  been  Prime  Minister — why  not 
Mainwaring?" 

He  owed  her  seven  thousand  pounds,  and 


HAVEN  295 

the  whole  of  his  debts  amounted  to  twelve  thou- 
sand. Now  I  had  to  think  how  I  was  to  clear  the 
estate. 

I  didn't  think;  I  knew;  I  just  did  it.  It  took 
the  whole  of  my  small  fortune  except  about 
three  thousand ;  but  with  that  in  the  funds  and 
Lizzy's  three,  I  knew  we  should  be  rich  enough, 
with  what  I  could  earn.  For  my  intention  was 
to  become  a  hireling,  and  live  abreast  of  her, 
close  to  the  ground,  since  neither  of  us  was  for 
the  heights.  With  that  in  my  mind,  and  with 
my  hope  in  my  heart,  I  went  down  to  West  Mer- 
row,  and  saw  Lizzy  on  the  little  platform  shad- 
ing her  eyes  from  the  sun.  Her  eyes  told  her 
greeting.     We  did  not  so  much  as  touch  hands. 

The  village  strayed  from  the  station  to  the 
sea — a  half-circle  of  white,  thatched  cottages 
about  a  green;  a  flint-and-stone  church  deeply 
sunk  in  its  own  dead,  bowered  in  trees ;  a  coast- 
guard station  on  a  green  cliff  fronting  the  sea ;  a 
flagstaff,  much  linen  hanging  out  in  the  wind; 
a  villa  or  two ;  a  scent  of  hawthorn  over  all. 

Lizzy's  people  lived  in  half  a  thatched  cot- 
tage, whose  roof  ran  in  one  long  slope  at  the 
back  from  ridge  to  ground.  Inside,  it  was  dark, 
low-roofed,  full  of  odds  and  ends,  but  intensely 
clean.     Her  mother,  a  little  woman,  spectacled 


296  MAINWAEINa 

and  pale,  came  to  meet  me.  She  curtseyed  and 
called  me  *  *  Sir. ' '  A  tall  young  sister  in  a  pina- 
fore was  there,  dark-haired  like  Lizzy,  high- 
coloured,  already  a  beauty.  I  wondered  where 
the  family  good-looks  came  from,  and  found  out 
afterwards  it  was  from  the  father's  side.  He 
was  out  at  work,  but  came  in  at  twelve-o'clock 
dinner.  With  him  came  yet  another  sister, 
from  school  Mr.  Mathews  was  a  man  of  fifty, 
who  looked  older.  A  silent,  grave-eyed  man, 
taking  much  for  granted,  including,  I  was  glad 
to  find,  my  sir-hood.  In  conversation  he 
omitted  it.  The  children  said  nothing  at  all; 
but  there  was  no  trouble  with  the  old  people 
when  once  the  thing  was  set  afoot.  Lizzy,  poor 
girl,  couldn't  find  her  tongue.  But  it  was  quite 
enough  for  me  to  see  her.  Her  colour  had  come 
back;  she  glowed  like  a  nectarine.  Her  cheeks 
were  fuller;  her  curves  more  ample.  Best  and 
certainty  had  done  their  beneficent  work. 

We  went  out  and  down  to  the  sea-shore  after 
dinner.  It  was  a  windless,  calm,  and  perfect 
June  day.  She  was  shy,  would  not  look  at  me, 
or  talk  but  in  guarded  commonplace.  But  I 
didn't  care. 

I  told  her  that  everything  was  done — except 


HAVEN  297 

one  thing.  '^You  don't  owe  sixpence  in  the 
world,  Lizzy.  You  have  a  hundred  and  fifty- 
pounds  a  year,  and  so  have  I.  So  I  can  come 
to  you  without  pretences."  When  this  became 
clear  to  her  she  was  startled.  **I  don't  under- 
stand. You  must  tell  me  everything.  I  must 
know  what  you  have  done."  I  knew  that  she 
must. 

So  I  told  her  that  I  had  all  the  papers  for  her 
to  see  when  she  pleased ;  and  then  put  the  case 
from  my  point  of  view.  I  said  that  since  we 
had  decided  to  make  a  joint-affair  of  life  we 
ought  to  share  the  responsibilities  as  well  as 
the  profits  of  it.  I  reminded  her  that  long  ago 
when  I  had  helped  her,  it  had  been  on  the  ground 
that  it  was  better  to  stand  indebted  to  a  friend 
than  a  lodging-house  keeper.  But  there  was 
another  thing  to  remember,  which  was  that  she 
had  tried  living  out  of  her  world  and  found  that 
she  could  not.  By  what  I  had  done  I  had  put 
myself  into  her  world,  and  did  not  propose  to 
leave  it.  It  seemed  true,  I  said,  that  her 
world  was  the  right  one  for  sensible  people, 
since  it  gave  you  full  scope  for  essential  things 
and  little  scope  for  unessential.  Anyhow,  I 
loved  her,  and  saw  no  chance  of  being  happy 
without  her. 


298  MAINWARING 

She  made  no  answer.  I  could  see  that  she 
was  greatly  concerned.  She  sat  playing  idly 
with  the  pebbles,  frowning,  biting  her  lip.  Her 
breath  came  short,  too.  I  waited,  my  future  in 
her  hands.  Presently,  as  she  said  nothing,  I 
took  one  of  them  and  kissed  it.  Then  she  broke 
out: 

''It  isn't  right.  It  can't  be.  I  should  have 
been  happier  if  you  had  left  it — I  would  have 
paid  it  off — "  Her  voice  faded  out.  ''Twelve 
thousand  pounds ! " 

"Dearest,  you  shall  pay  it  off.  You  shall 
pay  it  to  me,  and  my  children."  She  grew  red 
— I  saw  her  eyes  shining  through  tears. 

"I  can  give  you  nothing  in  return." 

"You  can  give  me  what  I  have  longed  for  for 
four  years,  Lizzy." 

' '  But  what  will  you  do  ? " 

"I  shall  work,  and  love.  What  else  am  I 
here  for  ? ' '    She  looked  at  me,  divinely  smiling. 

"I  can  do  that,  too." 

"We'll  do  it  together,  Lizzy."  She  looked 
round  about  her.  So  did  I.  And  then  I  asked 
her  to  kiss  me ;  and  she  did. 


THE  END 


3RNIA  LIBEARY, 

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